Robots
by SandmanCircus
Summary: A post-apocalyptic romance between a girl and a homicidal robot. "If you come any closer I swear I will rip you apart." The metal gears which made up his red eyes rotated in contemplation then widened comically as his lips pulled into a manic grin. Razor edged teeth flashed as he leaned in close. "Promise?" he hissed. SoulMaka.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Moved from my one-shot collection 'Shades of Grey' to become a chapter story.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The heavy metal of the scythe against her spine offered a false sense of security. A rare sensation, not easily attainable within the skeletal wasteland around her. At one time a city of lights, sounds, and life, what remained was the bare bones of once great skyscrapers, their windows long blown out during a war with near apocalyptic consequences.

"Waiting for an invitation, princess?" A smarmy voice.

Maka elbowed the body behind her, satisfied with the resulting gasp of pain that followed with a breathy, "You bitch."

She turned around, a finger to her lips. "Quiet, you dolt. We don't know who's out there."

Deciding to ignore the middle finger sent from her companion, Maka once again crouched low. Despite what she'd said, she _was _stalling - afraid for reasons which escaped her. Normally she would be eager to work, the adrenaline the only respite from the monotonous life in the caves. Yet today, something stopped her from stepping out into the open, a hesitation she didn't understand. Maka's fingers curled around the stone beside her, the fact that BlackStar noticed had chaffed.

Still, something was wrong. A nagging feeling in her gut told her not to go, told her that if she left the den something bad was going to happen. That she would get tangled in a mess she couldn't get out of. Maka growled under her breath and shook her head. Pushing aside her weariness was like rubbing fur the wrong way. Her instincts had kept her alive in the increasingly savage world and to ignore them was like a bad taste in her mouth, but at the same time she refused to indulge the inclination. People counted on her, _children _counted on her.

With that thought, Maka pushed through the small hole in the wall - one of the only entrances to the caverns shielding the survivors - trying and failing to extinguish the sinking feeling in her gut. The second she was out she was running, speeding off to the alley across the road. After several moments, she was joined by three other people.

Turning to face them once the last member had entered the alley, she pointed to the man on her left. "Kilik, eleventh sector. BlackStar, twentieth. Patty, you can have the third and I'll take the tenth. Questions?" They shook their heads. "Good, go." Kilik and Patty left in opposite directions without a word, but BlackStar remained, squinting at her.

Maka frowned, her uneasiness making her snap, "What?"

"You want me to take ten?" he asked. "You seem a little... off." The tenth sector was the biggest (and consequently the most dangerous) of the four areas their team was in charge of. She might have thought the offer was sweet if she hadn't been so insulted.

She shook her head at his question and when he still remained unconvinced, she pushed him. "I'm fine! Go!"

"But-"

"I'm on my period," she lied quickly.

"Ugh." BlackStar's face twisted in disgusted horror. "Women are such a gross species. You can have ten, but be careful!" he called over his shoulder before speeding off around a corner with his sword in hand.

Maka smiled as she left the alley for sector ten, momentarily forgetting the eerie apprehension twisting in her mind.

* * *

After the Robot Wars, humans were forced underground for their safety, hundreds of people (mostly seniors, children, and those forced to stay behind to protect their home while others fought) hid away in caverns made from old subway lines on the chance that mankind lost the war. That was ten years ago - and food was becoming scarce. To solve the problem, the city and surrounding areas were split into sectors which were scoured periodically by teams for food.

Maka opened her fifth empty fridge of the day.

It was a slow process.

Closing the door, she spray-painted a fat 'X' on it and moved to check if the house had a freezer in the basement.

A faint squeak to her left.

Maka froze, tilting her head to try and hear better. Another squeak. Smiling, she leaned her scythe against the kitchen counter and stuffed the paint can in her bag.

Scanning the kitchen, she slowly lowered to her knees. "Come on out, little mouse. I won't hurt you," she whispered.

Pulling a few crumbs from her pocket (remnants of a meagre lunch), Maka laid them out slowly in front of her. It was a moment later that she saw him, grey fur, black beady eyes, a twitching nose. "You must be hungry, huh?"

A hunger which took over the rat's obvious suspicions. A momentary pause passed between them before his claws tapped frantically against the tile floors in his lust for the leftover biscuit bits.

Maka stabbed a knife into its head. With a flick of her wrist the rat joined the other three rodents in her pack.

"Hey, Maka." The voice was smooth, a paradoxically organic tone from the lips of a genetically engineered machine.

Maka rose from her crouch, forcing herself to calmly wipe the knife clean against her pant leg as her heart spiked. Her only visible acknowledgement of the being behind her was a monotoned reply, "I thought I told you to leave me alone, Soul."

A pale hand landed on the counter near the sink. Maka struggled to keep her motions calm and unaffected, sliding the blade back into her boot with a methodical ease that bellied her nerves. The perfect fingers tapped an absent rhythm in her peripheral vision, a calculated action she knew was meant to disarm her - robots didn't fidget.

He laughed softly, mockingly, "We both know that's not what you want." She suppressed an instinctive shiver, suppressed also the primal monkey thoughts in her mind screaming, _Sex! Sex! Sex! _at the sheer sensuality he emanated. Because, though a robot, he was irrefutably _male_.

The second she turned to face him, he moved with a quick efficiency to entrap her. Pushing with his chest, the robot forced her against the counter, successfully herding her until he had her trapped between his arms.

Maka's breathing hitched, heavy with emotion as she locked eyes with the steel man who'd haunted her for so many months. "If you come any closer I swear I will rip you apart." The metal gears which made up his red eyes rotated in contemplation then widened comically as his lips pulled into a manic grin. Razor edged teeth flashed as he leaned in close. "Promise?" he hissed.

She growled when he lowered his lips to her neck. "I told you we weren't doing this again," she hissed, though her heart beat quickened in anticipation.

She felt his mouth slowly curve upward in reply. A human reaction which no doubt had to be programmed into him. _"_I don't remember agreeing. And if I recall, you enjoyed yourself." His teeth nipped her neck.

Maka clenched her thighs, eyes closing at the wicked sensation. But God, he was _so_...

She gasped as he pressed his groin against her crotch. "Soul..."

"Shh..." he murmured soothingly into her hair even as he repeated the action. Harder. "Come with me, Maka, and I'll catch you all the mice you want."

It would be so wrong - against everything she fought for. It had been wrong the first time she'd had sex with the enemy, and it had been wrong the second, third, and fourth time too.

He palmed her breast.

And if things continued like this it would evidently be wrong many, many times in the next hour...

Just like the first time he'd found her, he evaded her defences, slithering passed with a wicked sensuality that shouldn't have turned her on like it did.

"So warm," he whispered against her throat.

Warmth. Universally craved by robots - beings of cold metal. Even the skin-like material of the male surrounding her was devoid of the heat craved by his kind.

"Your blood would be warmer..." Maka jolted at the words hissed with a coldness devoid of the usual erotic promise.

"Soul," she murmured, hoping her tone sounded as stern as she'd meant it to.

"I'll be warm soon," he promised, roughly shoving her pants down to her knees with a practiced ease and no hesitation. In the same motion, he lifted her onto the counter and immediately pushed two cold fingers inside her - halting whatever she might have said in protest at his rough treatment. Soul shuddered, as close to sexual ecstasy as a robot could get. "So hot," he whispered to her reverently, moving close to nip painfully at her lips.

He kissed her then, reaching up with his free hand to possessively cup her nape and smash their mouths together. He licked and sucked with passion, groaning loudly when blood spilled from the wound he gave her. His tongue traced the bite.

The pain gave Maka the needed incentive to push the automaton away. Soul lazily removed his fingers and allowed Maka to create space between them.

"I said no!" she snapped. Ashamed at her weakness to him, Maka slid off the counter, chest heaving with self-loathing. When she finally looked up at him, all semblance of human emotion had disappeared from his face. Deadly clinical eyes studied her from a coldly handsome face, waiting. "I said no..." she repeated breathlessly.

"And yet you want me as much as I want you."

He spoke the truth, but the deadly calm voice he conveyed his message with simply reinforced the importance of her decision. He was a robot, one high on the heat of her skin, but a robot nonetheless. And though imprints of "emotion" had been programmed into him, the closest he, and those like him, could ever came to love was obsession. His irises rotated, a patient red that missed nothing.

"Yes," Maka admitted.

"Then what's the problem?" The sleazy sexuality had returned to his voice, no doubt a product of methodical studies of human sexual interactions - knowing this, however, didn't stop the shivers that ran the length of her spine at the alluring timbre. He once again moved to her, elegant fingers slithering along her skin and squeezing her flesh possessively.

_The problem is you have the emotional capacity of a fucking toaster._

Maka pulled up her sweats, an irrational need to spare the feelings he didn't have keeping her thoughts from spilling passed her lips. "I don't have time for this," she told him instead, tying the drawstring of her pants with jerky motions. "It's been fun, have a nice life."

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. "We're not done here."

She turned with a sharp retort but the momentum was used against her when he push them to the ground. Their limbs tangled and his face smashed against hers in his effort to connect their lips. She gasped as his cold fingers slid beneath her shirt and pressed into the heated flesh of her stomach. He moaned, lips trailing to her jaw as he pushed their bodies painfully close. "You're just using me," she accused breathlessly.

He chuckled."Only as much as you're using me."

With her final resistance torn down, Maka closed her eyes and immersed herself in the experience, drunk on desire, lust, and the wrongness of sex with the enemy.

She felt something change between them in that instance, their fates entangling indefinitely. She would later wonder, looking back at this moment, if everything would have ended differently had she decided to stay within the caves that day.

* * *

A/N: So yeah, again, this was previously posted in SOG. I made a second part, also posted in SOG...then a third was written...and a fourth. So rather then having a "seven-shot", I've decided to remove the story from the collection and post it separately.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It had been two months since she'd last seen Soul. It was the longest he'd ever stayed away since their initial meeting six months prior. On the days she was completely honest with herself, she could admit it bothered her, though she didn't care to ponder the reasons _why_. Maka began drumming her fingers absently against the table in a familiar rhythm as she reluctantly thought of her robot. It was always Soul who sought her out while she was on the job, even finding her when she switched sectors. She was... curious about where he'd gone, though even if she did want to find him (which she _didn't_), where would she even start? She belatedly realized the drum of her fingers was familiar because it was the mannerism Soul often used to lull her into a sense of calm. She immediately stopped.

"Why so glum, chum?"

Maka stopped scowling at her fingers and looked up at Blackstar. "Just... bored I guess," she mumbled as he slid into the seat beside her, dropping his lunch in front of him.

"With a full serving of uneaten rat and bean porridge? I find that hard to believe."

Maka cringed at the reminder, eyeing the steamy bowl of who-the-hell-knew-what in front of her. Not even the cook knew _exactly _what was put in the "porridge" (though she ensured it was nutritious to anyone who dared ask), but Blackstar's guess of rat and beans probably wasn't far from the truth. Frowning, Maka stuck her spoon in the bowl and scooped out a congealed lump. Oh god, was that an eyeball?

Blackstar noticed it as well. "I dare you to eat it."

Maka glared at her lunch which happened to be glaring back at her. Unnerved, her hard stare switched to Blackstar. "Screw you."

"Get in line."

She flicked the eyeball at his face and laughed when he released an outraged squeak.

"Anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?"

Maka turned, a smile blooming on her face. "Kidd, how are you? Come sit." She patted the place beside her and scooted over, elbowing Blackstar till he grunted and did the same.

"As good as can be expected," Kid replied kindly, sitting down beside Maka with a large book tucked beneath his arm, his tone and expression excited despite his words. After he'd adjusted her fork and knife into neat parallel lines, he turned to them and smiled. "I have something to show you guys."

Blackstar perked up. "Food? No, Porn! _Please_ tell me you found porn!"

"No," Kidd said as Maka punched Blackstar. "But I did find an album containing pictures of all the soldiers enrolled in the Deathcity regiment." He carefully placed the thick book on the lunch table, wiping off dust from one corner gently. He turned back to them with a quick smile. "It has photos of my father - it's possible you could find your families as well."

Maka and Blackstar turned immediately serious. Any familial pictures the survivors may have had, if they had any at all, were small and worn from constant handling. This was mainly because the war had been considered a sure win for humankind and, when packing their belongings for a 'temporary stay' away from home, many people had felt it unnecessary to bring along something as trivial as personal photos. It was a lapse in judgement many would regret.

"Where did you find it?" Maka asked, staring in awe.

"It was in the attic of a home my team was assigned to scavenge, I figure it must have belonged to one of the soldiers. It was covered by a tarp so even though the outside is damaged, the pictures inside are still in relatively good condition. Here, look."

Blackstar took hold of the book and immediately began flipping through it, ignoring the shriek of "careful you idiot!" from beside him. When he finally found the face he was searching for, one he hadn't seen in over ten years, he could only stare in breathless shock. "Whitestar." His fingers stroked the image reverently.

Maka leaned in, finding the name printed under a grinning young man. "Your brother?" she asked.

He nodded, carefully tearing the portrait out of the album. Maka didn't know much about Blackstar's family, and what she did know wasn't exactly praiseworthy. He told her once (after consuming a stupid amount of alcohol they'd found in an abandoned bar) that his brother was the only one he had been in contact with before the war. "He was the only person I ever loved," he'd mumbled into the rim of his bottle with a wistful sadness. He was a sad drunk.

As Blackstar seemed to be in a temporary daze, Maka took the opportunity to slide the book closer to her. Flipping through the pages, Maka watched as the endless grey faces flashed by. Parents, siblings, lovers, friends, family - all dead, leaving behind the people who had loved them. She reached the final page just as a familiar bitterness was turning into a painful knot in her gut. It showed a large group picture of about twenty soldiers, all lined up in neat rows staring into the camera with uncertain smiles. Her eyes traveled over the faces and she idly nudged Blackstar when she spotted his brother. "Look, it's another picture of your-" Maka inhaled a sharp breath, her eyes widening, tremors invading her fingers.

Blackstar tore the book from her fingers. "Where?"

Maka shoved him away and pulled the album back, eyes glued to the photo.

"What the hell, Maka?" Blackstar growled, trying a second time to grab the book only to have his hand immediately slapped aside.

Paler than normal, Maka put a finger beside the image of a young soldier standing casually beside Whitestar. "Who is this?"

Blackstar frowned at her, noting the soft shaking of her shoulders. "You feeling okay, Maka? You're looking a bit green."

She nodded sharply. "I'm fine. Do you know who this is?"

Blackstar looked to where she pointed. "Yeah," he said after awhile, brows furrowing. "That's Soul, I think his last name was Evans - maybe Eater. He and my brother were friends. Quiet guy if I remember... Look, are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Maka swallowed the bile rising up in her throat, dread a heavy weight in her chest. She looked to her friend, eyes wide and haunted. "I've seen him..."

Blackstar rolled his eyes. "Well, _obviously. _So what did the bastard do to make you this upset? Sleep with your mother? Kill a pet bunny? Burn a dictionary?"

"_No_, I mean I've seen him. _Recently_. As in the last six months," she bit out. Why couldn't her hands stay still?

His eyes widened. "He's... alive?"

She lowered her gaze to the picture, lips pressed tightly together. Her finger brushed his face, not quite believing her eyes. "He's a robot."

Blackstar narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Growing flustered because she knew how foolish her words sounded, she snapped, "I've seen his exact face on a robot. He had white hair, red eyes, and shark teeth so maybe his appearance was altered."

Blackstar shook his head, suddenly looking queasy. "No, if what you're saying is true - and I'm not saying it is - he, or his appearance rather, wasn't altered. He had red eyes and pale hair before the war."

"And the teeth?"

"Those too." Blackstar ran a restless hand through his hair and laughed without humour. "I remember we weren't allowed to ask him about them - whenever me or my friends would try he just growled at us." He rubbed his face in frustration. "Jesus christ are we actually considering this? Kidd stop stacking the creamers, this is serious!"

"Maka," a calm voice spoke from beside her. Maka turned to Kidd, who she'd completely forgotten in her pileup of emotions. He'd aligned the creamers into equal groups of four and had just moved on to the sugar packets when he faced her and spoke. "Be certain," he told her seriously. "This isn't a claim that can be downplayed once made."

Maka hesitated, knowing he was right. They'd killed hundreds of robots over the years - suddenly learning they might have been former lovers, friends, and family could tear the already fragile stability among the survivors. Even if it was learned that only their appearance had been used, the information alone could send the weaker ones over the edge. Still, the longer she pondered it, the more she believed it (and she r_efused_ to consider the possibility that her longing for it to be true held any sway whatsoever in that belief). "I'm sure."

Kidd nodded. "I'm not saying I don't believe you, but it's too soon to act without proof." He paused, before asking, "Did you kill the robot?"

Maka froze. "I - no... he got away," she lied.

The way Kidd stared at her made her nervous, and she wondered briefly whether or not he believed her. Finally, when she was certain she could take his scrutiny no longer, he turned back to his sugar packets. "For now we'll keep it between us."

* * *

For the first time since she'd met him, Maka actively sought out Soul. She told herself, as she scoured the city relentlessly, that she was looking for him simply to confirm or disprove her theory - but she couldn't deny the grudging eagerness she felt at the prospect of seeing him. When they were together, she was never bored, never worried about the other survivors. He was a respite from a way of life she'd grown sick of the day it had started.

Her eagerness slowly diminished, however, as hours of searching passed with absolutely _no_ sign of Soul. Maka sighed as she stopped for a short break between two buildings, sliding down the wall to the cobblestone floor. She placed her scythe under her bent knees and pulled two stale biscuits from her jacket pocket. She took bite and immediately choked.

"Why are you looking for me?"

She looked up through watery eyes, coughing out biscuit bits from her trachea. Soul stared down at her calmly, if not slightly irritated.

"You did that on purpose," she accused in a raspy voice, glaring at him.

"Maka, answer the question," he replied sternly.

She coughed again, rubbing her throat. "Who says I'm looking for you?"

He crouched down so they were eye level. "You've been running in and out of houses all morning and after four hours you haven't found a crumb."

"So?" she griped, feeling childish. "That doesn't mean I'm looking for you."

He raised a brow. "So you aren't looking for me?" He obviously didn't believe her.

She paused, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and glaring at him. She decided to change the subject. "How the hell did you know where I was anyway?"

"I put a microchip in your skin, I'm always aware of your location. Now tell me why-"

"_You put a microchip in me!?_" Maka shrieked. Her hands touched her neck. "Where the hell did you put it?!"_  
_

"If I told you, you'd just take it out."

"Listen you piece of-"

Strong hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her roughly into the wall. He brought his face close to hers, red eyes intense and rotating slowly as they focused on her face. "It's been a long time Maka," he said it slowly, "and I can think of things I'd much rather be doing then arguing all day with you. As ever, you are trying my patience with your inane babbling, so either you start talking or we're going to find new and creative ways to get rough."

She really shouldn't be turned on right now...

"Okay, I was looking for you."

"I _know_," Soul growled.

As he seemed to be getting angrier by the second, she decided to just blurt it out, "I think you used to be human! Or... at least I think you share the face of one."

Soul's expression grew blank as he stared at her for several seconds. "...I see," he said hollowly, leaning back and releasing her shoulders.

"Here, let me show you." Maka scrambled up to reach for her backpack. She dug around and pulled out the individual portrait of him she'd found in Kidd's album. She stood up and walked to him, shoving it in his face, "Look!"

Soul calmly took the photo, examining it.

"Don't you see? You could have been soldier!" she said. "On _our side_!"

Soul lifted his gaze to look at Maka. "I know."

Her world stopped. "You... you know? Does that mean-"

"Yes." He nodded. "I was once human."

* * *

A/N: Part 3 will be posted next Sunday (April 20th)

DEDICATED TO: X Cheetah X (thank you again for your lovely reviews)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A lone crow shrieked in the afternoon sky, concealed in the thick, yellow miasma - its broken and frayed feathers barely keeping it airborne. Further off in the distance, the faint echo of bombs thundered as machines tore through all evidence of humanity. Heard faintly above both was the sound of a restless wind beckoning a storm. None of it registered as Maka processed the words spoken to her in a careless nonchalance that bellied their cataclysmic significance. "I was right," she murmured, eyes moving from his face to stare blankly at a dirty puddle a few feet away. She was right - which meant her whole world was forever changed.

Maka pressed a hand against the soot stained wall for support. She fought to keep her breathing even, her chest uncomfortable and full. Maka had to force the next words through her lips. "Then if you were changed... was everyone else?"

There was a moment of silence before Soul replied, "For the most part, yes."

_All this time_... she gritted her teeth and clenched her fingers. The endless years in that dark cave came to the forefront of her mind. A cold, dark prison where fear permeated from every body in the crowded rooms of connecting subway stations - it was a place completely devoid of hope. The only respite had been when she'd been allowed out to scavenge for food. By that time, however, she'd already spent several years locked below the ground. "Do you still have your memories from your life before?"

"Yes."

"Then why did no one ever return?"

Soul studied her dispassionately for several moments before folding his portrait. After casually reaching over to slide it into her front shirt pocket, he leaned back and stated calmly, "Why would we?"

Maka squinted at him. "Why? Because your family and friends were waiting for you! They've spent over a decade believing you were dead!"

"So?" he asked, carelessly brushing her words aside.

Anger sparked. "What do you mean '_so_'? Everyone thought the entire army had been killed! We were alone for _years_! Don't you care?"

"Maka, we aren't human." He said it calmly, a condescension in his tone as though he was explaining something obvious to a child. His eyes began to rotate slowly as he added more sharply, "You should know this better than anyone considering you use every opportunity to remind me of this fact."

"This isn't about us!"

"Isn't it?" His tone was cold.

"No!" Maka shot back, bristling at his unimpressed expression. "This is about humanity losing 70 percent of its population almost overnight! Nothing was sent home, no letters, no phone calls - nothing was heard from the soldiers after they left!"

He watched her in quiet contemplation when she finished, a frown on his face as he took in her flushed cheeks and ruffled hair. After nearly a minute had passed in silence, she reached the limits of her patience. "Say something!"

Finally, he obliged. "I don't know why this is so important to you," he held up a hand when she bristled, "but if you come with me, I will tell you everything you wish to know."

Suspicion warred with curiosity. "You'll answer my questions? All of them?"

He nodded. "To the best of my ability."

The wary feeling she always felt on the days he came to her swamped her senses. The primitive instinct with a sense of wrongness that made her shiver. His expression was unbiased when she looked up at him, simply waiting for her to decide - as if her choice didn't matter in the slightest. She didn't believe for a second the air of carelessness he presented, considering all the times he'd tried to take her away with him. Still, his blank stare was far preferable to the "smile" he sometimes wore to try and put her at ease (which really scared the ever living shit out of her). She swallowed. "Where exactly would we be going?"

Now he did smile, and it was just as terrifying as she remembered. "You'll see."

* * *

Maka moved as slow as physically possible without showing how much she dreaded going anywhere with him. If he noticed her reluctance he didn't mention it, simply waited patiently (albeit smugly) as she wrapped up her discarded biscuit and stuffed it in her pocket, re-tied her shoelaces, and brushed off her pants. Without anything left to do, she warily collected her backpack and picked up her scythe.

"Ready?"

Maka nodded grudgingly at the ground, scuffing the heel of her boot against the cement.

"Then follow me."

Maka trailed a short distance behind Soul as they left the safety of the alley. She felt unnerved when their path widened into an open road, and furtively scanned their surroundings. For obvious reasons, she always tended to avoid open areas like this - with Soul she had one more reason to consider. Looking over at him, she didn't know what worried her more: a robot finding and attacking them, or one of her friends spotting her with Soul. With that sobering thought, she pondered for the hundredth time the semantics of their 'relationship'.

On one hand, the sex was great. He brought her rats which was sweet (though, admittedly, he probably only did it so he could get in her pants) and he seemed to at least _like _her when he wasn't blatantly threatening her (which, when asked, he'd assured her was "just foreplay"). And, she could admit when she was being totally honest with herself, he was her only reprieve from an otherwise hopeless existence.

On the other hand... he was her enemy. He was also an all around creepy guy that had more than a few screws loose (ha!), he was a _robot_ that threatened her regularly (she didn't really believe his "foreplay" line), a stalker with multiple (unpleasant) personalities, not to mention the only emotion aside from lust he ever exhibited was anger. There was also a good chance he was only using her as a personal heater because he was tired of feeling cold. She'd even once considered bringing him the hot water bottle she used in the winter only to immediately nix the idea when it occurred to her that he might no longer need her (which made her frustrated that she _wanted_ him to need her).

Minutes passed into hours as Maka's thoughts battled furiously in her head. When she belatedly noticed the darkening sky, she broke the silence. "How much farther is it?" she asked. "I have to be back before they start preparing dinner."

"Almost there," he called back. Something in his voice prickled her awareness, unsettling her.

A moment passed and the ominous feeling in her gut intensified, halting her feet. Something was wrong. Slowly pulling her scythe from the ties on her backpack, Maka looked around, trying to locate the cause of her unease.

"What's wrong?"

Maka's head jerked around to see Soul facing her, much closer than he'd been before. She slowly backed away, alarms blaring in her head. "I think maybe we should do this tomorrow. I have to be back soon."

His eyes flashed and their gears rotated in what Maka had learned to be growing irritation. "No."

"Listen-"

"No!" he hissed. "We've come too far, you aren't going anywhere."

Panic sparked and she held out a hand to halt him. "Soul-"

He grabbed both her arms painfully and pulled her closer. "You aren't being co-operative, Maka."

Maka glared up at him. "Let go, Soul. You're hurting me."

"Good," he growled, leaning in to hiss in her ear, "perhaps it's finally time we see how hot your blood really feels."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Maka jerked away and rammed the blunt edge of her blade into his temple. She spun and shot off at a dead sprint. Before gaining any real distance, fingers grabbed a handful of her t-shirt and jerked her backwards. Maka instinctively twisted with the motion, swinging her scythe around through the turn. Soul caught the staff before the blade could reach his neck.

He jerked the scythe from her grip, grabbed the back of her head and kissed her.

Maka met him head on, raising her arms to thread her fingers through his hair and pull him closer. Soul pushed his tongue into her mouth, playfully biting hers when she did the same. He grinned when she growled against his lips. Soul's hands moved down to her ass and hoisted both her legs up around his waist. He broke off their kiss to allow her to breath and trailed his lips down her neck.

Maka tried to concentrate on the sensation, but a high pitched sound entered her ears.

"Soul."

"Mm."

The noise got louder. "What's that sound? It's like... whistling?"

Soul immediately jerked back. He pushed her legs off his hips and turned to the sky.

"Soul?"

He looked back at her. His eyes suddenly appearing... conflicted? Guilty?

"Get back," he breathed, his voice more human than she'd ever heard it. "Now!"

Not letting her speak, Soul pulled her with him as he raced around the edge of a building. He pushed her into a small niche made by leaning concrete debris and rusted metal sheets. "Crouch low," he said, frantic. "Hurry!"

She looked up at him as he leaned over her, shielding her. Their eyes connected and for the first time she saw fear in his.

All the while, the whistling grew louder and louder and louder... until the world around them exploded.

* * *

The moments that passed following the impact of the exploision seemed like an eternity, though Soul knew for a fact it only took a minute and forty-three seconds for the dirt and dust in the air to settle enough that he could raise his head. His right arm, he noticed, had been cleaved in two by the deadly shrapnel implanted in the bomb. From the angle, it had most likely ricocheted off the building opposite him. Aside from the tissue fluid draining out and the inconvenience of it, the injury was of little consequence so he dismissed it. He slowly lifted his body off his charge, mindful of any other injuries he might have sustained as serrated rubble and brick tumbled off him.

Maka was breathing shallowly, and with some difficulty. He leaned down close to her so he could wrap his left arm under her armpit and around her waist. Lifting her from her niche in the wall to lean against his chest, he awkwardly pulled them several feet away before gently laying her flat on the ground. She felt colder. A needle of pain shot through his head as he looked down at her. As the particular sensation was an almost constant ache whenever he was around her, he ignored the anomaly.

She appeared fragile, broken. He growled then, irritation sparking suddenly and without warning. Frailty didn't suit her. He touched her hand and nearly hissed. How _dare_ she act so cold and broken in front of him. She was always spiting him, denying him, _judging_ him. His fingers tightened, muscles clenched, and an all encompassing urge to rip through her skin swallowed him whole. It was sudden and powerful and he didn't fight it. Fury boiled through him, hiding the cold. His eyes roved over her in yearning, in lust - he wasn't sure if it was for her blood or her body and he didn't care.

He moved to touch her once more when a glint by her head caught his eye. He offered it an impatient, distracted glance but paused when his eyes caught a pool of red.

The anger left him in a cold, dead rush. Slowly, so slowly, he leaned over and touched it, allowing it to stain his fingers. His eyes blankly followed the puddle up to Maka's scalp. Her hair was plastered to the side of her head in a morbid tangle of red so dark it was nearly black. The pain in his head increased, expanded, but he ignored it. Looking down at his fingers again, he finally allowed his mind to process and identify the substance.

Blood.

Emotion returned to him in a torrent so painful he was nearly rendered unconscious.

* * *

A/N: If you're mad at my short chapters, you'll be pleased to know the next one is roughly twice this length (well, almost). It's also the big explanation chapter so... you've been warned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The first thing Maka noticed when awareness slowly returned to her was the impossible stiffness of her body - the stench of stale mildew a close second. Eyes peeling open, she tiredly took in the dark, unfamiliar room around her. She moved to sit up and the world instantly skewed sideways. Hit with a nauseating rush of vertigo, Maka reached up to clutch the sides of her head and groaned.

A cool hand clasped her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. When she began to struggle, she heard, "_Shh_. It's okay. Lay back down, you're safe."

Maka continued pushing stubbornly against the restraining hand and the voice sighed, resigned. "Here, I'll help you sit up." Two hands gripped her beneath the armpits and hauled her up the bed. After pillows were propped up behind her, she was allowed to sink back against them. Her eyes felt heavy when she opened them a second time and the world continued to sway.

"The dizziness will pass," the voice (male?) assured.

Maka swallowed with difficulty, her throat dry. "Water."

The fuzzy presence beside her left for a moment. When he returned, the rim of a plastic bottle was pressed to her lips. "Slowly, Maka," he warned. She ignored him, hands wrapping around his wrist and greedily gulping down as much as she could. He pulled it away and growled. "Slower or you're not getting any." After a moment, he returned the bottle to her mouth and she forced herself to take smaller sips.

Once she was finished and he'd taken the water away, the world finally began to return to normal. Her vision cleared completely several moments later and she turned to see Soul hunched over in a chair beside her bed. His elbows were braced on his knees, his hands clasped loosely between them. He must have noticed the awareness in her expression because he gave her a small smile. The action was minimal and insignificant - it was also the most genuine expression she'd ever seen on his face.

She softly cleared her throat. "Where are we?"

"In the basement of a small home outside the city."

"I guess that explains the smell." Maka rubbed the side of her face tiredly. "I feel weak," she muttered.

"It's a temporary symptom of the medication I've given you. The effects should wear off soon," he said absently, as though distracted by another thought.

Maka nodded. Watching him, she frowned lightly. "You seem... different."

His abrupt laugh held no humour. "I feel different."

He looked it too. The easy apathy and cool confidence she was used to seeing in his expression had vanished, replaced with a weary resignation that unnerved her. His eyes had also changed - once cold and impassive, they now looked back at her haunted.

She studied him, hesitated, then said, "Soul, I remember the explosion but nothing else. Do you know what happened?"

A short nod. "We had entered a zone scheduled to be bombed." He didn't look at her as he spoke, staring instead at the lines of his palm. "As a result, you suffered a concussion."

"Oh," Maka touched the back of her head, felt the bandage. "I never knew the bombings were scheduled."

"They aren't always." His words were emotionless in a way they'd never been before - numb rather than apathetic. "However, there are times when large explosives are necessary to complete certain tasks - implement certain plans. In these instances, a signal will be sent to those in the vicinity several hours prior to detonation as a warning."

"Did you not get the signal then?"

He shook his head. "No, I got it."

"So why...?"

Hands clenching together, his voice was hoarse with disgust when he next spoke. "I deliberately led you into a hot zone in an attempt to incapacitate you. I wanted you to be harmed just enough that you'd be forced to stay with me. I also knew if you believed the injuries were caused accidentally you would be less likely to resent your situation."

Maka sat stunned, eyes roving over his face for signs of deception. "You son of a bitch..." she whispered. As the shock faded, an icy feeling of betrayal cut deep, and as her throat clogged with rising tears, she realized that on some level she had begun to trust him. Her chest ached beneath her breast and she rubbed it, breathing in short, distressed pants. "What even am I to you? A trophy?" she spat.

He didn't respond.

"Say something!"

Soul hunched over further, elbows propped on his knees as his hands rose to fist in his hair. When his shoulders began to shake, she at first she thought he may have been crying, but the dry chuckles reverberated from his back and she realized with horror that he was laughing.

She felt sick as she stared at him, his laughter making the hurt all the worse. "Is this funny to you?" she breathed, incredulous.

He straightened in a quick jerk, leaning back in his chair as his hands unclenched to run through his hair in a frustrated motion. He gripped the strands at the base of his neck and his eyes met hers with a hard stare. "No. I don't. It is however, _horribly ironic_ that I haven't even begun to explain the shit I need to and yet you're already primed to blow my head off."

Her eyes flashed. "So it's _my _fault?"

"Yes!" he snapped, sighed, then, "No."

She watched him with furrowed brows, fingers curling tightly around the blanket covering her legs. "What are you even talking about?"

His hands fell into his lap and he exhaled sharply in frustration. He studied her awhile, his hair a complete mess, before asking her, "How long do you think you've been here, in this room?"

Caught off guard, she answered instantly. "A night - maybe a day at the most."

His next words were quiet. "You've been here nearly a month."

Maka froze, and Soul continued before she could speak. His words came out in short bursts, like he wanted to get the conversation over with. "One time, as I was watching you walk away from me, I received a city-wide announcement in my brain. The information... it spurred the decision for me to take you."

"What?" she said. "What information could possibly make you want to _kidnap me_? Do you know how crazy this sounds?"

"Let me finish!" he hissed, hands held out to silence her. "This isn't easy to say and I just want to get it over with!" He took a shaky breath when her lips remained pressed in a thin line and continued. "For the next two months I collected the items I needed to keep you safely asleep for approximately four to six weeks: intravenous fluid that both fed and sedated you, bedding, water, medical equipment. Two days before I was planning to take you, you came looking for me. I decided to push things along... so to speak."

"And by 'push things along' you mean letting a bomb drop on my head," she deadpanned.

"Something like that," he replied, smiling at her words wryly. "The problem was, as soon as we entered the hot zone, I regretted my decision. I felt fear and guilt for the first time in ten years and, though I tried to protect you, I failed. The instant your blood touched my skin, the blocks implanted in my brain to stop me from experiencing emotion were destroyed."

She lifted her head and looked at him, not sure she'd heard right. "You feel?"

He nodded, clearing his throat quietly.

She watched him in growing awe and felt her heart pound rapidly against her ribcage. Soul's eyes flickered to her chest and she flushed when she realized he could probably hear it. Embarrassed, she quickly asked, "So... blocks? That's why you couldn't feel?"

Another nod. "They release an electric charge every time an emotion is incited, negating the sensation. I never even realized they were there until I began researching the procedure."

Maka pressed her palm to her forehead as she processed his words.

"Are you okay?"

She looked back up at him with wide eyes as her hand fell back to her side. "Yeah... I just need to think for a second. It's a lot to take in." For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something anyway, but he shut his mouth and nodded jerkily.

Maka stared down at her lap, not knowing what to feel. She knew she was confused and frustrated because, in many ways, the things he'd said had ultimately provided her with more questions than answers. As for everything else... relief, maybe? Happiness, certainly, that he could finally return the (admittedly unhealthy) feelings she'd secretly harboured for the sociopathic iron man. She wondered if all the shit he'd pulled was negated now that he had a conscience. There was also guilt, rising at the elation she felt despite the untold worry she must have caused all of her friends. After a month, they probably thought she was dead. Her eyes rose to meet Soul's when a thought occurred to her. "You said your emotions returned to you after the explosion."

His returning stare was unwavering. "That's right."

"Then why is it that you followed through with your plan to keep me here? Wouldn't your conscience have stopped you despite whatever twisted reasons you'd had initially?"

He shook his head. "The reason was still applicable."

"What reason could possible justify keeping me unconscious for a month?"

Rather than answering, he rose from his chair and walked across the room to a small dresser. He pulled out a small pile of clothes, walked back, and dumped them in her lap. "Why don't I show you?"

She examined the clothes, realizing they were the ones she'd worn the day she had gone looking for him. Her fingers brushed a blood stain on the collar that appeared to have been scrubbed at repeatedly. She looked up at Soul who was staring grimly at the pile in her lap.

"Show me what?"

* * *

The morning air was cool and damp as they left the small house. "It won't be too far," Soul said, holding the door open for her. Maka squinted, still not used to the light. Even the dull gleam of the sun shining through the thick smog was too bright for her.

She hooked the straps of her backpack over her shoulders and followed after him, scythe in hand. He'd told her she wouldn't need the bag where they were going, but when she'd just stared at him blankly he muttered a resigned "whatever" and let her do as she pleased. He'd also refused to reveal their destination, though the faint grimace on his lips told her she wouldn't like whatever it was they'd find there.

Half an hour passed with little consequence. The small homes lined neatly along the roads were eventually replaced with the remains of larger buildings, fluttering bits of garbage strewn amongst the wreckage.

"AAARRRRGGGHHH!"

Soul immediately grabbed Maka's elbow and pulled her jerkily from the road to hide behind a pile of debris. Maka peered over Soul's restraining arm and spotted a robot ripping apart a dead raccoon. His yells echoed throughout the streets. "Stupid! Useless! Brainless!"

"What's wrong with him?" Maka asked in a whisper.

Soul's voice was also lowered when he replied, eyes not leaving the twitching automaton. "When we're changed from humans into robots, quite a bit of work is done to the brain. When his was being re-wired something must have gone wrong - the block meant for anger was probably implanted incorrectly. The brain is a very complex, very sensitive organ and easily damaged when tampered with. Many with similar issues will appear fully functional until a trigger sets them off. It's not a usual occurrence, but it is by no means uncommon," he explained, then paused when he noticed her stare. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Maka quickly turned away. "No reason."

He gave her an odd look, but returned his attention to the other robot. "I'd rather avoid violence if possible. Come on, we'll go around to stay out of his sensors range."

"Do you know who that is? Who he was before, I mean," Maka asked once they'd walked a fair distance from the hysterical robot.

"I... no I don't think so." Soul kicked a rock out of his way roughly. "Honestly, I try not to think about it. For the past month I've been tormented by memories of the last ten years of my life and I'm at the point where I just want to hide away and forget this shit ever happened." He smiled dryly when he looked over at her. "But that isn't what you asked, was it?"

Seeing Soul act so despondent was as depressing as it was unnerving. So, with a smile she hoped didn't look as forced as it felt, she patted him companionably on the shoulder and said flippantly, "Hey, you want to rant? Be my guest. I'm used to complainers - my dad was the reigning champ."

She knew immediately that her pathetic attempt at cheering him up had failed (not that she'd had much hope in the first place). His small responding smile, at least, told her he appreciated the gesture.

"Will you tell me where we're going yet?" she asked, more to change the subject than actual curiosity.

"No need. We're here."

Surprised, Maka looked up, not realizing until they'd passed the edge of a brick wall that they'd reached one of the entrances into the caves. It was one she'd rarely used, likely why she hadn't noticed their location sooner. Turning to Soul, she saw him staring blankly at the metal sheet they used as a door. Just like that, the companionable mood vanished.

"You... know about this?" she asked hesitantly.

"The existence and location of your 'caves' has never been a secret, Maka. They've always known you were here, probably knew even before you did. You could say they were the ones that corralled you into them."

Apprehension rose in great waves and Maka took a weary step back. Soul's head instantly turned to face her, eyes zeroing in on the movement before darting back up to her face. His red stare was calculating as his irises slowly began to rotate. Swallowing, she asked, "Why do you keep saying 'they' like you're not one of them?"

"Because I'm not."

"No." She shook her head. "Despite what you may have been before, you're still a robot. You said so yourself that you fought against us!"

Soul moved closer to her, his steps languid. "You all think it was the robots that destroyed your world," he intoned. "Even with the knowledge of what I am, you continue to believe in your so called 'robot wars'. You are blind to your ignorance. It was never the robots, Maka - there was no war. It was an experiment. It is _still _an experiment."

She'd backed into the wall behind her as his words hit like bullets in her chest. The condensation from the morning dew soaked into her sweater and the sensation helped to keep her grounded. "I don't know what you're saying," the words came out breathless.

He crossed his arms and titled his head. His next words would have sounded cruel had she not seen the stark pain in his eyes. "Shouldn't you be checking up on your friends, Maka?"

Maka's heart beat rapidly at the poorly concealed pity on his face. Not pausing to ask what he meant, she simply ran into the caves. She didn't remember opening the make-shift door or running down the endless flight of stairs. She didn't remember unlocking the latches at the gate or sprinting frantically down the halls passed the old ticket stands. What she remembered was the emptiness - walking through each room to find the same nothingness that had been in the last.

They were all gone. Every child, every man, every woman. Her friends.

She turned to Soul in a lost daze, tears brimming at the edges of her eyes. He had followed her into the caverns and now stood a short distance away. His shoulders were hunched, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he stared blankly at the vacant seats of the common room. When he was like this, she could almost imagine what he had been like before the war - stubborn, dependable, probably cocky and petulant at times... Her eyes closed, pushing the tears out her eyes and down her cheeks.

"Tell me..." she pleaded.

He spoke with revulsion - yet his tone remained distracted, as though he was reliving the past. "It was never a robot army that had come to destroy mankind. What we fought all those years ago was a neatly choreographed brigade compiled of humans given robotic implants and features - created for the purpose of an experiment conducted on the basis of their queer curiosity."

Her eyes slowly opened, yet the tears continued to fall. "'Their'?"

"They traveled from another planet to study our 'primitive behaviour' and refer to themselves only as _the scientists_. Wanting to observe humankind at war, they came up with the plan to create an alternate race for us to fight. They watched the plans we made, the men we gathered - every decision made during the battle preparations was monitored. They got bored fast and switched their attention to the families that were left behind, subsequently finding much more interesting material. They decided it was in their best interest to make the situation permanent."

Soul walked over and sat in one of the abandoned chairs. "They turned the entire human army into robots - we were experimented on, studied, dissected, taken apart. Their objective was to suppress what they felt were unnecessary human traits. Once they'd accomplished their goal, they let us go in order to measure their success and watched as a phenomenon they hadn't considered occurred. Slowly and without fail, the men and women always migrated towards their home towns and cities. When asked, the robots reported it as a random oddity."

Maka shakily pulled out a chair and sat beside him. "Was it?"

He shrugged. "Who knows. In any case, this was when they took a more concentrated look at the remaining humans. They've since grown fascinated by your will to survive, your unorthodox methods, your adaptability. They've spent years trying to understand something that has always been a staple in the history of mankind. Unfortunately, their time seems to be up."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her. "You aren't the only group of survivors - there are thousands around the world that they have monitored religiously this past decade. Recently however, they have been systematically shutting each of them down - bringing in the humans to be changed. They're leaving earth and in exchange for the information we've provided, they are advancing our species."

Her stomach dropped. "Advancing our species..."

"Their goal is to have completely converted every human on earth before they leave."

"They think they're doing us a favour," Maka realized. "Like some morbid going away gift." Her hand went up to her forehead in shock. "How do you even know all this?"

"They implant a... feed in our brains that allows us to access and share information from any electronic file around the world. What I've told you is neither privileged nor confidential. It is available to those who wish to find it - most don't simply because they don't contain the emotional capacity to care."

"And... the information you got three months ago, when you made the decision to kidnap me, was it that our caves were going to be... _shut down_?"

Soul nodded, not looking at her. "I didn't want you to be taken away. I considered you my possession at the time and I didn't...," he gritted his teeth. "I didn't want you to lose your warmth."

Sick of watching him struggle with his own self-loathing, Maka prompted. "And after? When you had your emotions returned. Why did you follow through with the plan?"

He turned to her. "I didn't want you to have to go through that. The thought of you in those labs terrifies me. If you knew what was happening to your home you would have done everything in your power to fight it - and they would have taken you."

They were quiet for several moments after that, simply sitting beside each other in somber silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It was Maka that finally broke it. "You have to help me get them back."

He known this would happen, but still found himself slowly exhaling out his nose in a try for patience. "Try to think logically. They're being kept in laboratories with the highest sophistication of security," he told her. "It's nearly impossible to get it _in_, let alone get people out. Accept that there is nothing either of us can do to help them. Their numbers were up the second the aliens found them."

"What about Whitestar?" she blurted.

He froze in place. "What did you just say?"

"Your friend Whitestar - he has a brother. He was here, he was taken."

Soul furrowed his brows. "How do you know about Whitestar?"

"His brother, Blackstar, talks to me sometimes about him. When we were looking for Whitstar in an old album, you were standing next to him."

"Jesus," he swore. When his eyes shot to hers, they were disbelieving. "You're actually friends with that idiot?"

"What?"

"Blackstar - wierdo with blue hair - you're his friend?"

"Yeah, so?" she returned, defensive for some reason.

"He is the most annoying person I've ever met in my life."

"And so he deserves to be experimented on in a lab?" she shot back.

He glared. "Don't twist my words."

She reached over and grabbed his hand. Surprised, Soul jumped at the contact. "Will you help me or not?"

His eyes rose to hers. Slightly disconcerted by her gesture, he was no less determined when he said, "Not when helping them results in your capture."

* * *

A/N: By the way, it has come to my attention that Whitestar was actually Blackstar's _father_. Whoops.

Sorry if the chapter was kind of dull, but it's the one that sets up the rest of the story so it had to have a lot of dry explanations. If there are any mistakes, I would be very appreciative if you pointed them out (it seems they only ever appear _after_ the chapter is posted...). Also, I'm really excited for the next chapter, hopefully you guys will like it.

Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Arms folded and legs crossed lazily in front of him, Soul allowed his eyes to wander over the caves Maka had called home for so many years. Created from underground subway stations that the government had modified, the caves were initially meant to act as a temporary stronghold for survivors - temporary being the operative word. The cold, prison-like stations weren't suitable housing for 200 plus people to spend over a decade of their lives. Looking around him though, Soul concluded that they'd certainly made the best of their situation. The outer walls and exposed railway tracks were crammed with well used (yet comfortable) couches, futons and cushions while creaking bookshelves overflowed with salvaged kids games, knick-knacks, worn novels, and old board games.

Still, he thought with a pang of guilt, it was no way to live.

A harsh scraping entered his ears and he looked over to the young women angrily sharpening her scythe. After he'd refused to help her with her suicide mission, she'd stormed off in a huff to one of the dusty couches lining the hallway facing the tracks. He almost smiled, but the constant memories weighing in his mind acted like vindictive anchors on the edges of his lips and he was frowning before he could help himself.

It was in these instances - when they had no destination, no matters to discuss - that he didn't know how to handle her. Their past intimacies confused him, because no matter how clear his memories, he always felt that the man participating in them was a stranger. Someone he didn't like, and someone who certainly didn't deserve Maka. In ways, he was angry with her for allowing their association to continue - one which in the end had very nearly killed her.

He'd thought about this a lot, particularly while sitting next to her bed, staring at her bruised and cut up face as she slept. The memories he had of them together would cloud in his mind, and he'd remember all the shit he use to do to her, the ways he'd threatened her. It made him physically ill to think of it, and the guilt ate at him from the inside. It was also at these times that he'd remember the desperation often conveyed in her touch - not for him, he knew, but for what? Change? Fun? _Love_? He didn't like not knowing, but he told himself it didn't matter. He'd already decided their relationship would be a platonic one moving foreword. It was best for both of them.

Despite whatever bemusement their relationship brought him, there was clarity in the knowledge that he cared for her. Perhaps, in some ways, he had even when he'd been without emotion. It _was_ Maka, after all, that had destroyed the emotional barricades within his mind.

In return, he would stay with her as long as she'd let him.

He acknowledged that in many ways, this oath was self-serving. It provided a purpose in his life, stability in his confused and uncertain existence - just as her very presence grounded him when his memories threatened to pull him into the recesses of his mind. As far as he was concerned, her well-being was paramount to his own. She considered him a bastard for keeping her from helping her friends - she didn't know that to ensure her safety, he would do far worse.

And keeping her safe, he reminded himself, started with securing their location.

Sitting up, Soul purposefully placed his palms on the lunch table in front of him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled - willing himself to lose the sensations of the hard chair he sat on, the smell of the stale air, and the coldness in his body. As the physical left him bit by bit, he willed his mind to open.

Lights flashed brightly behind his lids as his subconscious entered the archives. His mind's eye opened and he took in the cool, blue expanse of the digital archives - a beautiful and horrible gift to humankind. Beautiful because of its meticulous construct, its efficiency, its beguiling aesthetics - horrible because of the price it'd cost them all.

He stood on the surface of a never ending sea, one filled with waters containing several lifetimes worth of information. A psychic wind brushed his face, a satirical breeze programmed into the archives meant to entice his senses. He'd spent much of his time here during the month he'd watched over his sleeping charge. He knew how easy it was to get lost in the morbid beauty of it all.

For the purpose of his cause, however, he ignored the allure and concentrated on his task.

As he'd done countless times before, Soul knelt down and pressed his fingers into the thick liquid beneath him, pushing until his hand was fully immersed in the cool substance. _Deathcity caves, _he projected into the depths. He was given an immediate response as files brushed against his mind. _...bombs used to corral subjects...specimens successfully gassed...subjects retrieved...minor difficulty obtaining certain individuals..._

He impatiently blocked the flow of information and specified his search. _Deathcity caves - monitoring equipment locations_. Several documents fell away from the heap he held and the remaining files restarted the process of systematically brushing against his mind.

_...South-East cavern - ten cameras, two recorders..._

_...North-West cavern - five cameras, one recorder..._

Locations continued for the rest of the rooms and Soul took careful note of each of them, siphoning the information into a separate compartment of his brain for easy access later. Having obtained everything he needed, Soul let the remaining files float away from him and retracted his hand from the psychic waters. His task complete, he forced his mind to return to awareness.

His eyes opened and he set to work.

* * *

With a harsh _thud_ that made her jump, Soul dropped an old cardboard box filled with smashed electronic equipment in front of her. She looked from it to him, confused. "This should be all of it," he said, more to himself than to her. For the past hour and a half he'd been finding and dismantling every device planted inside and around the caves. Most of them were located in dark corners or shoved into tight crevices, the more creative hiding places included: beside cradles, within toys, under stoves, behind worn shoes, and even attached to the back of old advertisement signs.

Maka lowered the book she'd been trying (and admittedly failing) to read. "What is it?"

"The equipment they used to spy on you with."

Shocked, Maka turned back to the pile with new interest. It looked like old technology - regular security cameras that had already been in the station since before she'd arrived. When she picked out a broken recorder though, she noticed the sophistication immediately. The outside was still plain, like something she'd seen once in a vintage spy movie, however the exposed inside was almost organic in its construct. Even if they had found any of the hidden equipment, they wouldn't even have given it a second thought. She looked up at Soul and muttered bitterly, "You know, when you said they were monitoring us, I didn't think you meant it quite so literally."

Her only response was an inscrutable shrug before he moved across from her to an old futon. He seemed tired as he sat down, his head dropping back against the wall behind him in a faint thud, lost once more in his seemingly never ending thoughts.

She dropped the broken device back into the pile. "What will happen to them?"

Several moments passed in tense silence, almost as if he was trying to convince himself she hadn't spoken. "Happen to who?" he asked finally, though he must have known.

"Who do you think?"

Soul's eyes shut and he rubbed his face wearily. "I don't think," he told her calmly, "that it's something you should hear."

Her stare was hard. "I deserve to know what's happening to the friends you want me to abandon."

His hand dropped away from his face and he looked at her blankly. _Fine_, he thought, suddenly vindictive. He leaned slowly foreword, knowing what his words would do to her but deciding to say them anyway - maybe because he was still mad at her for constantly disregarding her own safety. The truth would put things in perspective for her.

His voice was hollow when he spoke, and his eyes were colder than she'd ever seen them. "When you first arrive they put you in a cell with all your friends. They feed you just enough to survive and tell you nothing at all. One by one the people you love are taken away - they won't tell you where they go no matter how much you plead and they never return no matter how much you wish it. You don't sleep with worry and fear, resentment and trepidation; not until it's your turn to be taken. When they do come for you, there is almost relief in the knowledge that the wait is over, that whatever will happen will happen and it is out of your hands." His eyes shimmered with mounting anger, irises rotating as he whispered, "But the relief doesn't last long."

Maka swallowed nervously and for a moment considered asking him to stop. She didn't simply because of the visceral knowledge that he needed to tell her almost as much as she needed to hear it. So she watched as he peeled back his memories bit by agonizing bit.

"The sedation is just enough that you are aware of what is happening but you can do nothing about it. You feel no pain, are allowed no movement, experience no sensation - just the knowledge of an utter and complete violation." He swallowed, no longer able to look at her. "They begin with the skin, peeling it off to put it in a strengthening solution. Organs, including the eyes, are removed next and enhanced with pumps, metal, chemical hormones, and preserved with the skin. Muscle and fat is removed from the nerves, which are removed along with the brain from the skeleton. The bones are reinforced with titanium and reset with wires and gears to functions with greater efficiency. The brain is dissected and the areas known to react in tandem with emotion are purposely crippled with electronic blocks. And then," he sighed shakily, fingers clenching, teeth gritting, "we are put back together like some morbid jigsaw puzzle stuffed with wires and gears. Sensation returns but we no longer have the capacity to care - we live for the sake of living. Wondering endlessly, searching for a purpose we can't know we want. For some, they never find it. For others..." his gaze rose to Maka's and when he saw the tears in her eyes the anger drained out of him. He cleared his throat and continued, "for others they are doomed to slowly destroy the purposes they do find."

Carefully setting her novel aside and standing shakily, Maka walked over to Soul's futon. Her hands clasped together anxiously as she stared down at him, at a loss for how to comfort him. After a brief back and forth in her mind, she finally settled on awkwardly sitting down next to him, scooting closer till only a few inches separated them. Soul stared blankly ahead as the silence stretched on for several minutes.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," she whispered after awhile, figuring she should say something.

"It's fine," was his soft reply.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Maka reached over blindly and took his hand in hers. When he tried to pull away, she stubbornly squeezed his fingers, her cheeks and ears flushed red. Not wanting to fight with her, Soul reluctantly allowed the contact (much to her relief). Her head rolled down to lay against his shoulder, noticing belatedly the thin silver scars that lined his skin.

"I'm sorry," she reiterated more firmly.

While he had to fight the inclination to stiffen when her words brushed against his collar bone, he found the gentle weight of her leaning against him strangely comforting. Ignoring the warning bells in his mind telling him it was a bad idea, he twisted his hand from her grip and laced their fingers together. _Platonically_. "Thanks."

Maka nodded, heart beating unsteadily in her chest when her eyes darted to their hands. "Can you tell me about your life before the war?" she asked to fill the tense silence.

Soul shifted uncomfortably. "What do you want to know?"

"Blackstar told me you were a quiet person."

"_Him_ again," he muttered petulantly before explaining in an exasperated tone, "He thought everyone was quiet because he wouldn't shut up long enough for anyone to get a word in."

"So you weren't quiet?"

"Not by normal standards."

She nodded, considering. "Okay then... so what did you do for a living?"

"I was a manager at a music shop."

"Pets?"

"I think my apartment had mice."

She smiled. "School?"

"No money."

"How old were you?"

"I was twenty-six when I enlisted."

Maka jerked away to gawk at him. "You're _thirty-six_ years old?"

He frowned at her. "So? It isn't like I've aged physically."

It was true too, he was nearly identical to his old photo. Still... "You're fifteen years older then me."

"You're 21?" When she nodded, he sighed in relief. "Thank god, I was scared you were seventeen or eighteen."

"I do not look seventeen!" she screeched.

"You wore pigtails when I met you," he reminded, his tone lightening for the first time, "what was I supposed to think?"

"You - _ughh_!" When he snickered, she decided she was done with this particular topic, letting her head fall back against him with a miffed grunt.

The silence stretched briefly without a word and because she didn't want their conversation to end, asked hopefully, "Is there anything else?"

"...I played the piano."

Maka lifted her head to stare up at him with wide eyes. "What? Really?"

He smiled wryly at her enthusiasm. "Mhm."

"You have to show me," she breathed, looking away as though lost a moment in her thoughts. Her eyes returned to him in wonder. "Right now. Let's go."

He frowned at her in confusion, watching as she pushed off from the futon. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," Maka urged, pulling him up by their still connected fingers when he was too slow for her liking. Before he could say a word, she was leading him with determined strides towards the tracks. She grinned brightly over her shoulder. "We have a piano!"

"You have a piano?" he repeated skeptically as they turned a corner, untangling their fingers so he could stuff his hands into his pockets. He followed her the rest of the way down a short corridor till they stopped at a rusted door. Maka jerked it open with a sharp scraping noise till there was a gap big enough for both of them to slide through. "The door gets stuck so it's a bit of a tight fit," she warned, turning just in time to see Soul wordlessly wrench the door the rest of the way open. He shot her a grin full of jagged teeth and motioned her foreword with a hand.

"...Or you can just do that," Maka muttered under her breath, walking ahead of him into the room. She slid her hands along the wall till they brushed against the light switch. Flipping them on, she squinted as they blinked to life and moved to the shelf in the far corner.

Soul stepped in behind her, looking around what appeared to be an old storage room. It looked like it was mostly junk: old pots and pans, broken weapons, empty jars, magazines, books, _endless_ cardboard boxes, it even had a bike in the corner with a bent wheel. His eyes soon wandered over the crouched form of Maka, who was busy tugging a long, flat cardboard box out from underneath a giant, heavy, _swaying_ pile of stacked crates. Soul felt his eye twitch.

"I think it's technically a keyboard, but they're pretty much the same thing," Maka told him absently when he came over to stabilize the small mountain looming above her.

He stared down at her, incredulous. "I can't believe you just said that."

Maka ignored him, grunting as she finally pulled the box free with one last tug. As Soul caught the tipping tower of crates with a sharp curse, Maka pushed the box into the middle of the room. Lifting the top, she beamed.

"You must have _sucked_ at Jenga," Soul said flatly when he joined her, dusting his hands off on his pants.

Maka turned to him with a wistful smile. "There was an old man who used to play this when we first came here. Every night for three years." Her eyes returned to the keyboard and her fingers touched a key. Soul didn't need to ask what happened to him. "No one else knew how to play, at least not like he did. After a while we needed to clear space so we moved it here."

Maka reached inside and picked up the instrument. "The built in stand was pulled out to make a table," she explained. "So I guess this will have to do." Maka carefully placed the keyboard on the ground in front of Soul, nudging it till the centre was facing him. She pulled out the cord and crawled to an outlet in the nearest wall, plugged it in, and scurried back.

When she was once again settled, her eyes darted between him and the instrument expectantly. "Will you play?"

He watched her silently before his eyes moved to the keyboard. He raised a hand and allowed his index finger to lightly brush against one key. Old doubts returned instantly, like it had been only yesterday that he'd ruined his career through his brash and "dreadfully manic" (as his father would say) music. "I'm not very good," he told her absently, almost out of habit. Even as the words left his lips though, his fingers were already hovering above the keyboard - driven by a painful yearning he hadn't known he'd harboured till now.

"I don't care. Just please play," she pressed, impatient.

He looked at her one last time, expression inscrutable. Then he began to play.

It started off slow, _painfully_ slow even, and Maka began to wonder if he really was as bad as he'd been implying - but then it changed, grew darker and twisted. It became faster, and faster, and faster. Louder, and louder, and louder. It reverberated around the room in a manic tempo that pounded with the beat of her heart, and with a final note it stopped. A single beat of silence passed and he was playing again, the notes as he entered into his interlude fanciful and charming, but they soon too began to grow twisted. Their enticing quality turned leering, as the notes jumbled together in choreographed disorder that was as beautiful as it was unnerving. She didn't know quite how long he played for, but she knew she was entranced the entire time. When he stopped, it was with the same painfully slow tempo as when he'd began.

His eyes lifted from the keys to meet hers, and she was witness to the last few rotations of his spinning irises. He seemed nervous somehow, unsure of her reaction.

"Wow. The old man never played like that," Maka joked breathlessly, the words forced out when the right ones evaded her. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was a crowd favourite if I remember."

His stare never wavered, eyes continuing to wander over her face pensively in an attempt to gauge a reaction.

She swallowed, trying again. "But you... I don't even know what to say, Soul. It was... beautiful. Riveting. I've never been so entranced listening to music before," her hands moved around her restlessly as she tried and failed to accurately explain to him the emotions his playing had brought her. She gave up and simply looked at him in bafflement. "Do you truly not know how good you are?"

Soul didn't reply, but he seemed satisfied as he brushed his dust covered fingers against his shirt. He carefully put the instrument back into its case, tugging the plug from the outlet and stuffing it back in the box as well.

"Thank you," she told him earnestly.

He sat back and smiled at her. "Imagine how much better I'd sound on an actual piano."

She laughed softly, bashful as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Her expression sobered as her thoughts returned inevitably to her friends. She raised her head to find Soul staring back at her intently, likely having guessed the direction of her thoughts. "You know I'm still going after them," she told him quietly.

"I know you'll try."

At an impasse, the two sat together in uneasy silence.

* * *

Maka sat on a city bench staring at the pink heels she wore, fancy ones that didn't have any scuff marks or tears. She looked beside her to find Soul sitting next to her in a suit and tie looking bored. Between them was a melting and uneaten sundae with two spoons.

They were on a date.

Maka tried to remember what people did on dates but whatever minimal information she'd gathered on the subject from romance novels was evading her. She needed to 'woo him with her feminine wiles' like the cook had done in all her reminiscent stories she told at dinner. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance as she sifted through possible conversation topics. "What do people do on dates?" she asked him.

Soul turned to her, his expression calm and assessing.

"Soul?" He continued to stare at her blankly. "What do people do on dates?" she asked him again, because it was _very_ important that she know.

Rather than answering, his arm reached over behind the bench and he moved closer to her. His fingers brushed her cheek, stroking down her jaw till he cupped the nape of her neck underneath her hair. His eyes never left hers as he kissed her hard on the mouth.

When they broke apart, his thumb gently stroked her pulse as he whispered against her lips, "You've left them to rot."

Maka jerked out of his grip to stare into his calm eyes as the world around them burned black. Fires hissed around their bench, melting the sundae between them. The distant skyscrapers stretched into giant skeletons that loomed solemnly from above.

"Who?" she asked shakily, but she already knew.

"_Who do you think?_"

Maka jolted awake, gasping as she frantically pulled off the blanket that had tangled tightly around her legs. Her eyes took in the dark room around her, Soul lying motionless several feet away. After she'd eaten a small dinner of stale biscuits they had both decided to call it a night, physically and mentally tired after the days events. They were currently in the small room she'd shared with ten other girls.

Maka let her head fall into her hands as the tears formed in her eyes, falling freely down her cheeks.

She'd abandoned them. Because the robot she had a crush on told her to - the one who couldn't stand touching her without flinching. Her fingers tightened into trembling fists in her hair, the anger and hurt and guilt daggers in her heart.

Instincts drove her as she stood, grabbed the scythe beside her futon, and tripped out of the room. She didn't bother wiping away the tears, allowing the anger to override her other emotions. Her breathing was frantic, her eyes wild as she turned corners. She had to get them back. She didn't need Soul. Everything would return to the way it was. Everyone would be together again. Blackstar would still be annoying. Kidd would still organize his creamers. They'd all eat mushed up rat together. It would be the same. Everything would be okay.

_She had get them back._

Her steps grew faster and faster until she was running. They would be so scared. Her heart pounded in her chest as she told herself over and over that she'd get them back, until it became a mantra in her mind. Just as the stairs came into view she was suddenly pulled back by the back of her shirt.

Soul caught her as she slammed back against him. "And where the hell do you think you're going?" he hissed, helping her to her feet.

She immediately shot off again, ignoring the breathy curse from behind her. He grabbed her arm before she got too far, "Maka are you listening to-"

"I'm helping my friends!" she cried, hitting him with the blunt edge of her blade. He jolted back but kept his grip, growling as he said "You're pissing me off, Maka."

"Good!" she screeched at him, breathless, "you deserve it!"

"Calm down, you're going to hyperventilate," he warned, his free hand held in front of him in placating manner.

Maka screamed in anger, suddenly attacking him. Surprised, Soul barely had time to duck as the pole of her scythe swung lethally at his temple. Jumping back from a second assault by the blade end, he dove in and wrenched it away from her trembling fingers. Disarmed, she lunged at him and took to clawing frantically at his face with her nails. Fed up by this point, Soul wrestled her to the ground, careful to catch her gently by the nape before her head injury slammed into the ground. When her hands kept slapping his face though, he was forced to release her neck and push her hands above her head, holding them there.

"Tell me what's wrong," he demanded.

She couldn't get the tears to stop. "I betrayed them! I've left them there to rot - _for you_. Now they're going to die and it's _my fault_!"

He raised an eyebrow. "And you think running after them with bare-feet, wearing nothing but an old t-shirt is going to somehow help them?"

She didn't look at him, simply glared at a spot above his head. When he released her hands they instantly moved to hide her face.

Resigned, Soul sat back, watching as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. She had been fine earlier, he mused, happy even. "Didn't you tell me that you were still going after them, Maka?" he reminded her softly. "You never gave up on them."

He was once again ignored and, as he watched her, he realized with a sinking feeling something he'd always unconsciously known to be true. This same scenario would keep repeating, over and over till either she got passed him, or she was driven mad with grief. It was a cycle they'd be doomed to repeat until one of them gave in to the other. He would chain her to him to save her, and she'd break her bones trying to escape to save them.

Soul grasped her shoulder with his hand, dread coursing through him at what he was about to promise. At least this way, she had a chance.

"I'll help you get them back," he told her quietly.

* * *

A/N: Here's how it is: I have the next two chapters _roughly _written (both of which or close to 6,000 words), but I want to polish those up and write the eighth chapter before I post the sixth. This is just because the story keeps altering slightly and I'd rather keep it consistent rather than going back and changing a chapter I've already posted. I've given myself a hard deadline of about two weeks, in which I'll buckle down and try and sort out the main components of the story.

So next chapter: May, 25th

In the meantime TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Blackstar's palms and forehead pressed tightly against the glass wall of his cell as he glared ahead, quietly seething. The faceless _things_ in white coats had just taken away another whimpering boy who'd pissed himself when he was torn from the arms of his hysterical mother. Blackstar's endless shouting and explicit threats had done nothing and he'd been forced to watch helplessly as the boy clawed at the hands holding him in a useless attempt at freedom. Blackstar abruptly jerked back and punched the glass with an enraged scream, splitting his knuckles and spraying the white scrubs he wore with blood.

For the past three weeks he had been stuck in this fucking white room, locked in by a thick slab of glass. Similar cells ran all the way down the wide hallway - housing roughly five to six bodies each. It reminded him eerily of the cages that use to hold the lab rats in the biology room of his old elementary school. The thought left him sick as he quietly watched the people around him, both young and old, sitting together in tight clumps and shaking with a fear that had grown exponentially in the last several days. Several days in which people had begun to be collected. People who never returned.

The boy's mother collapsed to the ground with the weight of her grief, wailing brokenly into her hands.

Blackstar squeezed his eyes shut, teeth gritting as his mind traveled back.

There had been no warning when they came.

In the dead of night, a week following Maka's disappearance, a sickly sweet smoke had slowly filled the caves. He remembered waking up to see a menacing white blur hovering over the boy snoring next to him and, though he'd felt horribly sluggish at the time, immediately lunged at the intruder, tackling him to the ground and away from his roommate. He wasn't completely sure what happened next - his memory blurred by whatever drug had been in the air - but when he woke up, he was the only around him given his own cell.

There was a tap on the glass and Blackstar turned to see one of _them_ holding a bowl of mush and a spoon in its pasty hands. If they were robots, he mused, eyes traveling up and down the creature in loathing, they weren't like any he'd seen before. The thing behind the glass had a bulbous head with chalky white skin that peeled off sporadically in thick patches. It had no eyes, only two nostril holes above a small hole he assumed was its mouth (though it never moved when it spoke so he wasn't sure). As he watched, it scratched at its cheek with long fingers that curved with an extra joint.

"You have not eaten since you arrived. Will you choose to ingest a meal today?" The voice was muffled slightly by the glass, but legible.

Blackstar remained silent, his stare brooding.

"Do you perhaps not know that you require sustenance to survive?"

Blackstar fists clenched, blood dripping from his knuckles as he tilted his head. "Must have forgot."

"Understandable." The being nodded sympathetically, paused and said, "Your injury will need to be tended to. You are an unreasonably fragile species. I will put your meal by your bed for consumption upon your return."

As it spoke, Blackstar heard a faint click from behind him followed soon after by a loud, persistent hissing. Turning, he looked up to see plumes of white smoke slowly filling his cell from the vents in the ceiling. A gross sweetness invaded his nose and the room slowly began to sway. Growling, his head shot back around to face the asshole behind the glass. Whether he was a robot, working for them, or something else entirely - he didn't care.

He wasn't someone to toy with - to poke and prod when they pleased.

His palm slammed with a loud bang against the glass barrier as his eyes stared into the faceless mask of the being opposite him with lethal promise. His senses were fading and he fell hard to his knees, fingers sliding through the bloody smear in loud streaks as he dropped. Though his lids grew heavy and his muscles lax, his glaring eyes never strayed from his target.

It didn't matter who they were.

It didn't matter _what _they were.

He would kill them all the same.

Because he was greater than the gods.

With that last menacing promise resonating in his mind, Blackstar fell back, unconscious.

* * *

His eyes snapped open. He was on a bed. Someone was working on his hand. The door was open. A minimum of three bodies in the room.

Blackstar's leg shot up and he kneed the one stitching up his knuckles, the sound of snapping cartilage loud in the small space. The other two rushed towards him and he leapt off the bed, his bare feet landing nimbly onto the concrete. Eyes on his opponents, he lunged for the closest one and twisted its neck sharply one way then the next till he heard a satisfying crack. The second turned to run, but Blackstar grabbed its head and with a yell, rammed its face into the wall.

It all happened within five seconds.

As the adrenaline left his system, his skin chilled and his breathing became laboured. Growing dizzy, Blackstar stumbled over to the corner of the room and threw up the contents of his stomach. He continued to gag for awhile afterwards, his body not liking whatever they'd injected into him. He spat when his retching subsided and wiped his mouth on the end of his shirt before turning. His hands trembled and he had to use the wall as support to lift himself off the ground and reach the exit.

He fell through the open doorway and slammed into the wall opposite the room, groaning as he tried to regain his bearings. Pushing off, he dizzily scanned both ends of the hallway. Deciding one way was as good as the other, he picked up a walk, bare feet tapping quietly against the floor as he held a supportive hand against the wall. As the fuzziness of his brain abated and he managed not to bump into so many surfaces, he took in the long grey hallway. It almost looked like one of those military bases he'd seen in movies as a kid: concrete walls, metal doors, flickering lights.

The nausea and chills faded with each progressive step he took as the shit they'd given him finally began to leave his system. By this point he could support himself without using the wall as a crutch - his muscles having lost most of their sluggishness - and he picked up a slow run. Breathing also came easier, and he soon found himself shooting down the corridors in record time... sort of.

Just as things seemed to be turning up for him, Blackstar hit a fork in the path and skidded to a halt. Indecision once again plagued him, his head jerking left then right. "Shit, shit, shit, shit," he muttered under his breath as he turned to his left.

"...and so the neural pathways sent the signals meant for the blocked emotions to the one behind the faulty block. As a result the emotion reacts exponentially in place of the others."

"Fascinating."

Blackstar slammed down his heels and twisted back around, sprinting back the way he came. "_Shit, shit, shit, shit!_"

He rounded several corners, and nearly wept in relief when he spotted a rusted 'stairs' sign. Pushing through the door underneath it, Blackstar climbed the steps two at a time as they twisted upward. Three flights later and he pushed through the doors to a long, thin concrete hallway. He grinned when he spotted the door at the end with a small window that brightened the edges of the dark space with the the light of the sun. If he was a man prone to crying, tears would be spewing out his eyes right about now.

"HALT!"

Yeah. Sure thing, boss. Blackstar took off running down the hall, pulse spiking as he watched freedom grow closer. Fifty feet from his exit, the door unexpectedly creaked opened. Shocked, Blackstar nearly lost his footing as he watched a human silhouette fill the door. "Move!" he shouted, trying to make out the face of the figure blocking his exit. The head titled as he grew closer, allowing sunlight to illuminate her features.

Blackstar froze, unable to move as he stared in horror and awe at the person before him. "You - !"

Barbs shot into his neck and sent a paralyzing jolt through his body. A bellow of rage was wrenched from his lips as his knees gave way under the intense spams, barely catching himself before his head smashed into the ground. While he was still weak, hands hurriedly grabbed both his wrists and wrenched them behind his back and into what felt like handcuffs. When he was roughly lifted to his feet, his neck strained around in attempt to spot the figure he'd seen in the doorway - who had since disappeared. Despair ran through him, heavy and painful.

It barely registered in his mind when they dragged him back to his cell, his thoughts in a torrent over what - no, _who_ he'd just seen. Maka's words from a month ago entered his mind and his nerves chilled. He vaguely noticed when he was once more securely locked behind the barrier, his cuffs automatically unlatching to drop to the floor.

He stared numbly at the back wall.

A tap on the glass brought him to attention. "That was foolish. There is no need to be impatient, your time will come soon."

Turning to face him, Blackstar spat on the glass, right at the white pasty face behind it.

* * *

After Soul had carried the still half-hysterical Maka to bed, he walked silently into the main common room and began pacing, one hand running through his hair jerkily as he considered their situation carefully. He'd been adamant in his resolution to keep Maka away from the labs, but now that he'd foolishly jumped on the suicidal bandwagon, he would do everything in his power to accomplish their goal.

Their goal. Soul cringed, allowing himself to lament one last time the utter stupidity of what they were planning. The only thing he'd wanted to do since his emotions had resurfaced was keep Maka safe. This was as far away from 'safe' as she could possibly get.

Before all this, during the month that she'd slept, he had resolved to foil any plot she made to rescue her friends - even at the risk of losing her trust. What he hadn't counted on was the sheer, agonizing desperation in her eyes. He feared the lengths he knew that such a raw emotion would push her to. It was at that moment that, with a rush of trepidation that had left him physically ill, he'd realized how foolish he'd been. Even with all their past interactions being so... _specific _in nature, he'd always known how loyal she was.

It was a trait he admired, and one he wouldn't fault her for. Curse into the fiery pits of hell, yes; but he wouldn't fault her for it.

Soul walked over to a dusty couch near him and sat down, his head falling back against the musty cushions. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sensations around him. When he finally released the air from his lungs, he allowed his conscious to leave with it.

The Archive welcomed him into its expanse.

Almost immediately he felt himself relax, the blue sea surrounding him a respite from the reality of his fucked up life. He dropped to his knees and submerged his hand into the psychic waters that supported him. _Deathcity survivors._

The information shot eagerly into his hand, the files forming a ball of twisting lights around his fingers. The files took turns brushing against his mind.

..._216 subjects obtained__... Location: Nevada Lab (No. 54938721)... __minor difficulty securing certain individuals... __55 persons expired in transport due to unexpected allergic reaction to sedative... __20 successful conversions... __43 casualties...__98 subjects pending conversion..._

Soul stopped the flow, allowing the data to slip back into the depths. He hesitated a moment before projecting his next search. _Nevada l__ab construction._

_...(No. 54938721)__... Military base converted in 1997... _An outline of the base and its floor plan brushed against his conscious and he carefully filed the images into a compartment in his mind to look over later.

Satisfied for the moment with what he'd collected, Soul went to pull out his hand but halted when a thought occurred to him. Apprehensive, Soul sent a third search into the abyss of information. _Maka Albarn_. A tense moment passed and nothing happened, but soon several files collected within his palm.

..._Deathcity survivor... collects food... carries scythe... considered missing in action... location unknown... _Soul pulled his hand out of the cool waters, nearly collapsing in relief. They didn't know. He'd kept her hidden. She was safe.

Of course, Soul thought, her anonymity wouldn't matter once she outed herself by running to her friends rescue. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, deciding with that sobering thought that he'd had enough of the Archives.

He left the cool, blue setting and opened his eyes to the grungy caves that smelled like rat shit. And Maka. Standing right in front of him. In nothing but an over sized T-shirt. He looked up as she loomed over him.

"You're awfully close," he stated, eyeing her red nose and eyes. "Are you feeling better?"

Nodding, Maka reached over wordlessly to cup his face with quivering fingers. Her eyes were haunted as she stared down into his, yet burned with a fiery yearning at the same time. "Help me forget," she pleaded.

Before he could process her breathless words, she literally fell on top of him, mouth landing on his in a deep and urgent kiss. His eyes widened as her arms circled around his neck and he felt bad when a beached whale came to mind as she wiggled over him to get comfortable. She gained footing and pressed closer and kissed deeper and all thoughts of whales left Soul's mind as he groaned against her lips. His hands trailed up her sides and he gathered her to him - so close now that he could feel the fine tremors that coursed through her body.

For the most part he simply sat there, content to go along with whatever she wanted because it felt so good just to _hold her_. His lips lifted at the corners when she growled into his mouth, her hands fisting chunks of his hair and hugging him as hard as she could. He was still smiling when she broke off their kiss to breathe, hands pushing against his chest so she could see him. Looking at her as she panted above him, eyes lost and very nearly broken, he carefully reached up to comb her hair back from her face with his fingers. Affection hit him hard and unbidden.

Maka's eyes began to glisten, her fingers knotting in his shirt. Soul moved on instinct as he reached up and gently untangled her fists, bringing them up to wrap around his neck. She collapsed against his chest with little prompting, and he held her closely - fingers running through the ends of her hair.

"We'll get them back," he promised, eyes closing as he breathed her in. He felt it when she drifted off soon after, her body slumping completely against his own. In an afterthought, Soul pushed out her knees till her legs laid comfortably over his own rather than hiked up by his hips. She grunted faintly at his manipulations, but quickly settled back down.

She was soft and pliant in his arms, and so incredibly...

_Warm_.

The thought jolted him like a bucket of ice water and his hands shot away from her. Her soft breathing hitched a moment before returning to normal, the faint breeze once again brushing rhythmically against his neck._ What the hell was he thinking?_ Memories of the all deplorable ways he'd treated her ran through his mind and for once, he didn't try to repress them. They were a good reminder of the stupidity of his actions.

As carefully as he could, Soul slid out from under Maka, laying her flat along the couch. They were bad for each other, he told himself for the nth time. With one last look, he buried his hands in his pockets and walked away.

.  
.

Maka opened her eyes, watching his back as he retreated. She wanted so badly to call after him, but there was a limit to how much humiliation she could handle in a single night. Her eyes closed and her lips pinched together.

She knew he'd been reluctant to touch her, flinching away every time their skin accidentally brushed. She knew... but when she'd woken up, alone and worried in a her dark room, it didn't seem to matter when all she wanted to do was forget.

* * *

"Wake up."

A grunt.

"Maka. Wake up." A rolled up wad of paper smacked her on the forehead. Maka lifted her arm to shield her face and the shift of weight had her rolling off the edge of the lumpy couch, banging her elbow on the ground. Rubbing it, she glared up at Soul who glared back down.

Her cheeks instantly pinked and her scowl vanished when she remembered the events of the previous night.

Soul wisely chose to ignore her reaction. "You want to save your friends?" he asked, holding up the large rolled up sheet he'd hit her with.

She looked back up at him, her mind instantly forgetting her embarrassment and putting two and two together. "We have a plan?"

"Half a plan," he corrected, turning on his heel to walk over to one of the lunch tables. Maka quickly scrambled to her feet and followed, reaching him just as he was unrolling a hand drawn floor plan. It was a fairly large sheet, and the lines were drawn on in permanent marker.

Maka picked up the edge of the 'paper' sceptically. "Is this the bottom of a Twister mat?"

Soul's hands flattened on the table as he glowered at her. "I apologize, I couldn't find the _drafting room_. Maybe it was between the stacked rodent carcasses and the small mountain of moulded bread. Or better yet, perhaps you could find someone else to follow through with your fucked up suicide mission."

Taken aback, Maka simply looked at him. "It was just a question. Calm down."

Soul sighed and rubbed his jaw, struggling to keep his agitation buried. He didn't know where the sudden frustration had come from, but as soon as Maka woke up he'd had the urge to yell at her for every insignificant thing she did.

"This is the lab?" she asked, looking down at the drawing.

He nodded. "It's the design of the one holding your friends. A converted military base."

Her fingers traced a line with her finger. "How long do we have to save them?"

Soul was quiet a moment, not looking at her. "They've already started."

"What?"

He cleared his throat. "In total 63 people have gone through the operation."

"What?" she gasped, staring at him in horror. "But that means there are still over 150 people in the labs... 150 people we can save."

Soul didn't respond.

"We have to leave right now! I'll go get dressed and - "

"No!" Soul grabbed her when she tried to run passed him. Maka halted, looking from him to the hand gripping her upper arm. Noticing her gaze, he let go as though she burned him. He swallowed. "No. We'll leave tonight. When it's dark. It'll give me time to finalize the plan."

She nodded quietly, the hurt in her eyes a wrench in his gut as she shuffled passed him. Though he didn't want to, this time he let her.

"Fuck," he cursed silently after she'd rounded the corner. His hands ran through his hair in frustration. It occurred to him in the back of his mind that if he stayed too much longer with Maka, he wouldn't have any hair left.

It was for the best, he told himself. She was better off.

Turning back to the outline of the lab he'd drawn from the image in his mind, he considered all access points. Most importantly, they would need a safe way in and out of the building. They would also need to find a way to release the prisoners. If they were the same cells as when he'd been captured, the only way to exit was to lower the ten-inch thick glass wall that had kept them inclosed. His eyes found a room at the centre of the facility. The control centre would be their best bet.

He needed more information.

Closing his eyes, Soul entered the Archives.

He breathed in relief as quiet, still space surrounded him.

_Nevada Labs - Access points_, he projected when he'd pushed his hand into the 'waters'. Rather than a swarm of twisting white lights as he had expected, a single red beam floated toward him. He watched it with curiosity as it touched the very edge of his index finger.

**_!CLASSIFIED!_**

The message was accompanied by a loud psychic blast that pushed him out of the waters and left him clutching his head in pain. The ringing in his ear was paralyzing as it beat against the walls of his skull till he had to fight just to remain within the Archives. His eyes squinted open and he watched the small, fuzzy light gently float away beneath him. He'd never been restricted information before - why would he suddenly be cut off? He breathed heavily as the pain eased off.

When he was completely freed from the after effects of the mental bellow, Soul tried searching something basic. A topic off the top of his head. Completely random. Totally irrelevant. _What to do when a girl is mad at you._

A swarm of data files surrounded his hand and fought to touch his fingers ..._buy flowers... 5 positions guaranteed to lead to female orgasm... how to fulfill your girls sexual fantasies... penis enlargement..._

Soul cut off the information, dispersing the files with a flick of a finger. At least he knew that his access to general information wasn't restricted...

He tried again. _Nevada Labs - Cell construction._

As he watched, that familiar red glow drifted towards him again and he quickly retracted his hand before it could touch him. The ball of light bounced against the surface before floating innocently away.

"Shit," he hissed, standing up. This would complicate things. Without that information they would never get into the building, much less break anyone out. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his mouth as he imagined Maka's reaction. Maybe he should take a look at the penis enlargement file, he thought dryly. "Fuck."

When his eyes opened again, they met with the apathetic gaze of blue ones. He jumped.

A woman stood several feet from him, perfectly still as she waited for him to acknowledge her. Taken aback by the sudden appearance, he tilted his head and examined her. He was confused, not only because he had never seen anyone else within the Archives, but also because she was somehow eerily familiar to him.

He knew he'd seen her before, but the where and the when evaded him. He was about to ask her who she was when an image - no, a memory he realized, flashed into his brain. _Two people stand beside him in a tight embrace, kissing and laughing with each other. The woman blushes and smiles big as she shows her ring._

One of the two people featured in his memory was the woman staring back at him, the other...

His eyes widened and a name entered his mind. "Tsubaki."

Time seemed to physically stop as Soul stared at the curvy woman in front of him, not quite believing his eyes. Her returning gaze was dull and shuttered, the complete opposite of the warm, accepting look he was use to. She had always been gentle and kind, always smiling at those around her.

...Even as they dragged her away she'd smiled.

"I know you," she intoned.

An ache bloomed in his heart when she spoke so robotically, so unlike her.

"Yes," he confirmed, swallowing. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes drifted to the waters beneath them, staring blankly into the abyss. "I don't know," she mused, as though she herself would very much like to know the answer. Her eyes moved lazily back to his. "I heard your searches."

"Oh..." He rubbed his neck, feeling flustered despite himself. "Of course you did."

She blinked slowly, face blank.

After an awkward silence (for him anyway), Soul dropped his hand and sighed. He levelled her with a stern look."What do you want, Tsubaki?"

"I think," she began, confusion twisting her face, "that I want to help you."

"What?" Not the answer he'd been expecting.

"You're planning to free the people held in the Nevada Labs? I want to help."

He frowned at her, and repeated, "_Why?_"

"I don't know," she said again, sounding literally like a broken record.

Which didn't help him. As he watched her standing there like some antique china doll, Soul inwardly battled between the happiness he felt at seeing her again and the suspicions he harboured in regards to her offer of help.

Hands on his hips, he asked her carefully. "How were you planning on helping?"

"I've been to the facility recently. I was contracted to clean the building and therefore have the codes necessary to enter the building."

He'd received similar offers to work for the scientists as well, mostly missions to attack and bomb humans or retrieve and dispose of faulty robots. They served as a temporary purpose that filled the void the robots didn't know they had. Perhaps he might have accepted more had he not recently found a plaything to chase around, he thought bitterly. "Those codes change daily, old codes are useless and would trigger an alarm."

"I also have access to the information you were searching for." For one embarrassing moment, he thought she was talking about the search he made about girls. He was staring at her in horror when she clarified, "The confidential information you were blocked from."

"Right," he said in relief. Her words suddenly clicked and he jolted. "Wait, really? How?"

"I took it from the control centre while I was cleaning it."

She was just full of surprises. "You stole it? Why?"

"I don't kno-"

Soul stuck up a hand to silence her when he realized he wouldn't get any answers from her that way. "Did something happen while you were at the facility?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Humour me."

She paused in thought. "The toilets were unusually dirty. The control centre wasn't as dusty. The mop had gone missing so I had to retrieved a knew one. A boy escaped from his cell. The soap-"

"Tell me about the boy who escaped," he interjected.

Tsubaki nodded obediently. "He was taken to the medical room to look after cuts on his hand. The sedative used on him wore off unusually quickly and he incapacitated the scientists and escaped. He was running to the roof exit when they caught him. And..."

When she didn't continued Soul prompted, "And?"

"And he was his brother. Whitestar's."

Soul cringed. God he hated that kid. At least now he knew why Tsubaki was offering to help, though her reasons were obviously unconscious. "So you came here because you were curious about Blackstar and wanted to learn about him. You're offering to help me because he reminds you of Whitestar."

Her gaze fell to the twisting lights beneath her. "Is that why?" she asked herself quietly, eyes soft and unsure.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"A small home close to the labs."

His eyes narrowed, mind working. "How close?"

* * *

Maka trudged along the worn tracks silently, the small lantern clenched in her fingers illuminating the dark tunnel. Every now and then she'd hold up the light to examine the graffiti riddled wall on her left before continuing down the twisting path. The careful scuttle of rats echoed from behind her as water slowly dripped from above. She shivered, the tunnel colder than she'd expected and the oversized trench coat she'd thrown over the t-shirt she slept in wasn't warm enough.

She lifted her lantern to the wall, lowered it and kept moving.

She stepped through puddles and over boulders, her shadow dancing behind her. She was careful to keep her mind blank, completely free of stupid robots and captured comrades. In the dark she felt calmer. She could pretend that she hadn't betrayed her friends and her principles, and that she wasn't pining for a robot who would rather stick hot pins in his eyes than touch her.

Not that she was thinking about it.

Once more, her lantern lifted. This time she smiled as it shone over a long, flat rock and set the light by her feet. She crouched down, not really caring if the tails of her coat got wet, and pushed the rock aside till it exposed a small hole in the cracked cement. Panting lightly from the exertion, she leaned down and pulled out an old plastic lunchbox. She moved so that she could sit back against the damp brick, bringing the lantern and the box with her.

Maka brushed away the excess dirt with gloved fingers, flicked up the latches and opened the lid. Within were the only treasures she'd allowed herself to have: her mother's wedding ring, a worn out detective novel given to her by her father, a pocketknife (which was actually Blackstar's, who had asked her to put it in only after making fun of her for the idea), and a small photo of her family.

There was also a new addition she'd never seen before. Picking out the picture gently, she examined the portrait of Blackstar's brother, who was groomed neatly and smiling into the camera. Blackstar must have put it in after she'd gone missing.

The picture dropped into the box again and her head fell back with a dull thud. She closed her eyes and covered her face, the leather of her gloves cool against her skin. Nothing would ever be the same. Even if - no, _when_ she got her friends back, things had forever changed. The rosy glass they'd been stuck behind had shattered, and reality was far crueler than they'd ever imagined.

But it didn't matter right now, she told herself, what was important was first bringing them back safely. They would argue logistics when everyone was home and safe.

Which Soul had promised to help her with.

When his name passed through her mind, waves of embarrassment flooded into her and she groaned into her hands. Like a needy idiot, she'd practically thrown herself at him the night before and he'd escaped as soon as he thought she was asleep. In hindsight she was probably lucky that the only repercussion of her actions was being treated like a leper - he could have just as easily skipped town on her.

_Tap...tap...tap..._

Maka's hands slowly lowered and her gaze darted cautiously to the direction the sound came form. They were footsteps, echoing quietly from around the tight corner to her left, far too light and nimble to belong to Soul. The hairs at the back of her neck lifted in warning, and the absence of her scythe made the nervous apprehension all the worse. Eyes never leaving the curved wall, she carefully set the lunchbox beside her and rose to her feet, jerkily grabbing the lantern as an after thought.

"Hello?" she called out into the darkness, knowing whoever it was already knew she was there.

A filthy hand appeared in the faint light, sliding along the grimy walls. Maka raised the lantern, squinting into the dark as she tried to make out the person in front of her. When a pale face stepped into the dim light, she had to swallow the sharp scream that rose at his appearance.

He had a hallow face, the lower half covered in a sparse, matted beard. His eyes were gaunt and feverish and his back hunched over his curled up, bony arms.

"I know you," she murmured. He was one of the survivors (Dennis?), though lately she had only ever saw him at meal teams, his greasy hair hanging down as he curled possessively over his plate. As children, they'd been told to stay away from him because he often watched the younger girls, his gaze intense with longing. The one time she'd ever talked to him was when he had cornered her in the storage room. Ball in her hand, she had stared in fear as he loomed over her, beckoning her closer - if Blackstar hadn't run in, kicked him in the shin, and pulled her away, she wasn't sure what would have happened.

"Yes." Dennis's voice was hoarse and squeaky, though his tone was eager as he stared.

"How did you escape?" she asked, watching him warily.

"Hid," he smiled proudly, showing thin, crooked teeth. His eyes brightened, "Have you come looking for me?"

She ignored him. "You didn't help the rest?"

"They don't help me."

Maka frowned at him. Everything about this person rubbed her the wrong way, and the look he was giving her sent warning bells through her brain. She took an experimental step back and watched his face crumble and his hands raise out as though he longed to touch her.

"No, don't leave! We just found each other. Stay."

The second retreating step she took was the catalyst, his face twisting with fanatical determination. "I won' let you go," he promised desperately. "Not, now, when your friend can't hit me anymore for staring."

He ran at her and lunged, knobby fingers outstretched towards her. When Maka moved to evade, her foot stepped in the hole beside her and she tripped, well in reach of his flaying arms. They fell to the ground together and her head smashed hard against the concrete, aggravating the wound already there. Her head rang as pain shot through her skull and, dizzy, she couldn't put up much of a fight as he straddled her waist and wrapped his claw-like fingers around her neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "but this is for the best, you'll see." He panted as he loomed above her, his greasy fringe brushing against her cheek as he squeezed her windpipe. "We'll be happy, I'll make you feel so good," he soothed as she struggled underneath him, fighting to breathe.

Her arms reached up desperately as her fingers strained to reach his neck, claw his face, _anything_ to loosen his hold. Her teeth gritted and an angry sound slipped passed her lips as her strength faded. The edges around her vision became dark, and the last thing she saw was the triumphant face of Dennis on top of her.

All thought left as her hand dropped lifelessly beside her.

* * *

A/N: This is the longest chapter (one-shots included) that I have ever posted on this website by 2,000 words. The next chapter is even longer.

Tell me what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

Note: This chapter contains flashbacks. I haven't _italicized_ them because I personally find it annoying to read and so I separated the present/past with ellipsis (...) for the skimmers out there.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Maka's eyes fluttered open as chills vibrated over her damp skin. Her body felt feverish and stiff, and her head hurt - a hard and constant thudding between her ears that had her senses ringing. Sweat beaded at her forehead and she groaned inaudibly, her muscles bone tired even as they shook in wracking tremors. When she tried to move her hands, they stuck at her sides, and she dizzily looked down to see them tied with thick ropes to the metal frame of an old bench. Confused, she looked around the dark, dimly lit room and somewhere in the back of her mind faintly recognized her surroundings as that of an abandoned railcar.

It was a mess, like an oversized rats nest with collections of garbage and useless junk strewn around the floor and up on the seats. Even worse was the smell, a sharp and pungent odour that stuck in her nose - some nauseating mix of urine and unwashed bodies. Her bleary eyes moved to the window and she saw her scratched up face staring back at her blankly, lit only by the dented lantern beside her. A quick glance down her reflection assured that all her clothes were intact, even the oversized t-shirt under her trench coat remained at a decent mid-thigh range.

Her eyes moved back to examine the cramped space. How had she gotten here? A flickering image in her mind - a memory - showed her the ugly, sunken mug of Dennis, the pervert that leered at little girls, looming giddily over her. He'd choked her, she remembered, his grimy hands eagerly wrapping around her neck and squeezing as hard as they could. She swallowed at the recollection, felt the telling soreness in her throat.

Her head lightly fell back, bumping against the headrest as she tiredly closed her eyes. The dizziness and lethargy kept her half conscious and she could feel herself steadily losing grip on the other half of her awareness.

Blood trailed down her nape hot and wet as, delirious and confused, her mind took her to another time when she was at the mercy of a dangerous person.

...

She had been eating lunch in an alley when the robot ambushed her, catching her unaware and unarmed. One moment she'd been innocently biting into a flaking pastry, the next she'd been forced at gun point to back up again the fence dividing the alley.

Gripping the chain links behind her with white knuckled fists, she glared vehemently at the android who stood several feet away pointing the gun at her forehead. Strangely, the robot was _trembling_ as he faced her, his eyes tormented in a way she'd never before seen on anyone not human. Even as she tried her best to appear as unaffected as possible, she couldn't stop her eyes from darting nervously to the weapon he held - shaking in his palm to the point that she believed she'd be shot by accident before he would ever get the chance to consciously pull the trigger. Her heart beat audibly in her chest, pounding with enough force against her ribs to steal her breath.

"I'm going to kill you, and the voices will stop," he told her, desperation in his voice as he aimed the gun at her head purposefully. Maka squeezed her eyes tightly shut, clenched her teeth and waited for the bullet.

The shot fired. She flinched.

When no pain registered, Maka hesitantly cracked her eyes open. The robot in front of her swayed on his feet - an eerie back and forth - before collapsing in a twitching heap to the cold ground. Confused, Maka looked beyond the felled body to find another robot, his hair white and his eyes red, staring calmly down at her attacker as the spasms slowly subsided into the stillness of death.

He stuck the gun in a holster at his hip and looked up at her.

"Thank you," she whispered dumbly before she thought better of it, relief having loosened her tongue.

He also seemed to think her response was strange because he stared at her silently for several beats before responding. "He was malfunctioning. The order was placed for his termination. I did not shoot him to save you."

As she watched, he bent down and grabbed the other robot by the collar. With a final glance at her, he walked out of the alley, dragging her assailant behind him.

...

The memory twisted in her hazy mind, warping at the edges until it disappeared and was replaced with the smug grin of her captor.

"So you're finally awake."

Maka blinked tiredly at him, squinting. She tugged weakly at her restraints but stopped when a wave of vertigo had her vision spinning. Head lolling foreword, Maka groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

"No, no no. Look at me," he urged, grabbing a handful of her hair with his filthy fingers and pulling her head back to face him. She glared into his beady eyes. "I don't like it when you don't look at me."

His thumb brushed her cheek, smearing it with dirt, and his fetid breath blew against her face as he leaned in. "Don't worry, sweet. I'll take proper care of you," he promised her. "Even when you never gave me the chance to before."

Breathing heavily, his eyes lowered to her breasts and crushed one in his hand, squeezing lewdly with his fingers. "Thats nice," he moaned, and his eyes lifted to her lips. When he leaned in closer, Maka slammed her forehead into his nose. He shrieked, reeling back as he clutched his bleeding face. Unfortunately, Maka wasn't doing much better and, with a sudden wave of nausea, was forced to lean over so she could hurl the contents of her stomach on the ground beside her feet. The lantern on the seat next to her split into four and danced around her vision as cold sweat dripped off her brow.

She spat the remaining residue from her mouth and fell back against her seat in a haggard slump.

Dennis lowered his hand and, looking down at it, seemed shocked to find his fingers drenched in blood. Anger bloomed quickly from the surprise and his gaze jerked up to glare at her hatefully. She half registered a garbled threat passing his lips as he stormed out the rail car, hand cradling his nose as he went.

When he was out of sight, she stopped holding her head up and let it fall foreword. Her brain was fuzzy and stuffed painfully full from her impromptu head-butt (though thankfully the nausea seemed to have passed).

Not knowing what else to do, her mind lazily wandered back to the past of it's own accord.

...

When he found her the second time, she was sitting cross-legged in an alley going through her bag, examining the food she'd collected that day. His steps were casual and assured as he approached, ignoring her yelp of surprise when he crouched down before her.

"Hey," he smiled, wide and charming. With shark teeth.

She automatically moved to grab her scythe but realized with a start that he had stepped on the staff firmly when he sank to his haunches in front of her. She jerked her hand back and lifted her gaze to glare at him. "What do you want?"

"I saved you," he reminded her lightly. "You should be nicer to me."

"You said you shot him because you were ordered to," she retorted.

"I still saved you."

Not sure how to handle the blatantly teasing tone, so different from the day before, Maka decided it was safest just to ignore him and began organizing her stash again. As she pulled more items from her bag though, she couldn't help but feel hyper aware of his intense eyes boring into her.

He watched her sort quietly for a moment, his expression blank, before looking up and giving a sudden and blinding smile. "What's your name?"

Her hands halted and she looked at him in surprise. "What? Why would you want to know my name?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Several very good reasons came to mind, but they all seemed strangely irrelevant when he was watching her so intently. "I-I don't know." She cleared her throat awkwardly. What was the harm? "It's Maka."

He held out his hand. "Soul." When she hesitantly took it, he squeezed her palm firmly in his, holding on longer than perhaps was proper.

"Why are you like this?" she asked suspiciously when he'd finally let go of her hand.

"Like what?"

She struggled for words. "You act... different."

He reached over to her and took a stray lock of hair in his hand, rubbing the strands between his fingers absently, which of course caused blood to instantly flush into Maka's cheeks. "Do you not like it?"

"It's fine... I guess." She didn't really know what was happening - the ease with which she was talking to a _robot_ was surreal but, like she said, he was different. She had never seen a robot emote like he did, as if he could genuinely feel. "You didn't answer my first question."

He wrapped her hair around one finger, then finally released it, watching it flop back against her jaw. "And that was...?"

"Why are you here?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

"Did you?"

That sneaky, teasing smile again. "Maybe."

"I don't understand you," she admitted.

He only nodded, as though that was to be expected, and looked down at the small pile of food between them. "So, what do you have here?"

"Food," she said, blushing for some reason. "Uh, today wasn't a good day."

"Ah, probably opened nearly a hundred cupboards and you've hardly anything to show for it," he crooned sympathetically. "That must suck."

"Sometimes," she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching. When she dropped her gaze from the intensity of his, she remembered her scythe planted firmly beneath his boot. "Could you, uh...?" She stared pointedly at her weapon.

From the brief glimpses of his personality that she'd seen over the past several minutes, she'd assumed he'd apologize and immediately hand it over. When he didn't, she looked up to see the cold and emotionless expression he'd worn on their first meeting. A chill creeped up her spine as he looked down his nose at her with hard eyes. For several moments she felt like no more than a bug under his blank and damning stare, but then, like nothing had happened, his smile returned and his charm was back on full power.

"Of course," he said, stepping off the weapon and handing it over to her. "Wasn't even aware it was there."

Her hand wrapped around the pole and she took it from him, her eyes watching him warily. "Thanks."

With one final heart melting smirk, he stood up and calmly walked away.

* * *

Soul found her again a week later and, much like their first and second meetings, it came as a complete surprise to her.

She was busy looking through one of the lower apartments of a building located on the outside edges of the city, her search thus far fruitless. The bugs had been particularly nasty in this part of the building and she'd had to stop and pull spider webs out of her hair more times than she cared to think about. Plucking one of the said sticky strands off her shoulder, she opened a fridge to find it empty, closed the door to find him sitting innocently on the counter.

Maka jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"Hi," he said, his eyes rotating with a smirk.

Hand on her chest, heart still racing from his unexpected appearance, she stared at him dumbly. Since his last 'visit' she'd come to her senses, reminding herself that he was the enemy and what the hell had she been thinking? What would her _mother_ think? He didn't even feel! These and other thoughts at the forefront of her mind, she had promised herself not to succumb to whatever Sou-_ the robot_ was plotting. The mental oath had at least steeled her spine if not her heart.

Maka cleared her throat. "What do you want?" she asked coolly .

She could tell he wasn't paying attention to her question, even if he was watching her in quiet contemplation. When her patience was beginning to grow thin, he hopped off the counter and strode up to her. She leaned back when he got too close, but he kept advancing with a single minded determination. Her back connected with an open cupboard and empty boxes fell around her. She was about to warn him off when his icy fingers slipped quickly and without warning underneath her clothes and pressed into the heated flesh of her belly. Maka flushed as he groaned.

Warmth circled in her abdomen - a contradiction underneath his cold fingers - and her heart quickened. "What are you doing?" she squeaked.

"I'm sorry," his lips whispered against her neck. "I can't help it. You're so soft and warm."

This was crazy. She knew this was crazy.

And yet...

_No!_

Maka quickly side stepped away from him, dislodging his hands from her skin but not the sensation they'd incited. She took two more steps back until he was far enough away that she could breathe normally. "Don't touch me," she warned, hoping she sounded more certain than she felt. "And don't come any closer!"

He stopped advancing at her words, eyes gauging her expression to decide whether or not he could push. He eventually smiled, so calm and unaffected that she wanted to punch him. "Can I come see you again?"

Her brows furrowed, slightly panicky. "What? Why?"

"Can I?"

No. No. _No_. "Yes," a breathless response she couldn't help.

His smile was sensual and beguiling and when he moved closer to her, this time she let him. His fingers lifted to lightly touch both sides of her face. She watched him watch her, kept watching as he moved in to lightly kiss her left cheek. His lips were cold and she shuttered beneath them.

And for the first time in ten years, she felt special.

It was _addicting_.

* * *

After that, he visited her nearly every day. He was always so charming, always flirty - his touches growing more intense and less fleeting as time went on. By the time he first kissed her, a month after he'd found her in that alley, she was sufficiently entangled.

It was her first kiss, and she knew it was coming and was breathless and giddy with anticipation.

His hands were gently cupping her cheeks and he was slowly closing the distance between them when she suddenly lost her patience and closed it herself. She grabbed the back of his head and eagerly smashed his face against hers, banging their teeth and squishing their noses. Soul jerked against her in surprise and sort of just stood there, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with her. Though she was thoroughly mortified by this point, Maka was still desperate to enjoy her first kiss and moved her mouth 'seductively' around like they described in romance novels. After several failed attempts at 'licking and biting sensually' she gave up and pulled back.

"You're certainly enthusiastic," he said when she nervously looked up at him.

She laughed sheepishly, tucking her hair behind her ears, eyes on her feet and completely embarrassed. "Sorry. It was my first kiss. It wasn't very good, was it?"

She was cursing herself for ruining such an important moment when Soul wrapped his arms around her, one behind her neck and the other at her waist. She looked up at him curiously, "Wha-?"

He bent her head back over his arm and kissed her hard on the mouth. Maka's eyes widened but then she remembered standard kissing procedure and quickly closed them, trusting Soul as he tipped her back in his arms. The kiss was intense and satisfying, and she had to fight a giddy smile when their tongues touched.

They separated and Maka panted in his arms when he lifted her back to her feet. "Better?" he asked.

"Better," she laughed.

_I'd like to see you try and head butt me now..._

_..._

The words entered her ears from far away and by the time they finally registered, the scene was already fading from her mind. Maka desperately wanted to grab at the memory before it could diminish entirely, yearning for a time that felt so much simpler.

"There are going to be a few changes around here. From now on if you so much as look at me funny, _this_," he slapped the end of a cracked wooden bat against his palm, "is going straight for your skull. I figure we can always find a heater for your thighs if things turn a bit to messy. So, will you do what I tell yah, or will it be the bat?"

Maka couldn't help feeling strangely detached from the situation despite the potentially fatal threat directed at her, so she felt no compunction whatsoever when she responded by saying, quite calmly, "I'll take the bat."

He backhanded her hard across the face. "That was a warning, bitch," he grated, a knobby finger pointed in front of her face.

But Maka didn't hear the threat, any coherency she'd gained in the short time since she'd woken shot to hell as the pain from his blow stabbed into her skull in violent and excruciating waves. Her eyes water and she doubled over as far as her restraints would allow.

"Do I have to ask again? You won't like it if I have to-"

_Ting-a-ling-a-ling_

Dennis jolted on the spot and turned, eyes moving to a small bell hooked up to the top of the railcar door. "Someone tripped my wire?" he wondered aloud, incredulous. "Who?"

_Ting-a-ling-a-ling_

He seemed to grow nervous as his head swivelled back to her. "You said they were all gone! Who was with you?" he cried desperately, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. "Tell me!" His adams apple bobbed widely and his eyes were large and worried.

_Ting-a-_

The small bell was abruptly ripped from the door, pulled by it's string into the darkness. Dennis thankfully moved away from her, his shaking having made her horribly nauseous on top of everything else. He stared at the empty space where the bell used to hang and murmured hopefully to himself, "Probably it's just a rat."

He shakily walked to the wall and grabbed a rifle, his fingers trembling as he checked for ammo and cocked the weapon. "_Just a rat_..." He shot a quick glance at her before stepping out the way he came in.

Her eyes closed.

...

Four months had gone by and Soul continued to visit her fairly regularly. Despite the guilt she felt at their relationship, she was always excited to see him. Rather than talking the majority of the time like when he first began coming around, they mostly just kissed or made-out when they met. He seemed to know what she was comfortable with and how far to push her passed it before she balked. He also knew what to say, the right words to give her the smallest nudge in the direction he wanted her to go. For example, if she told him she just wanted to talk, he would immediately tell her how beautiful she looked before kissing her. It was frustrating, but whenever a wiggle of unease entered her mind, she forcefully pushed it away.

Because for the first time in so long she felt _happy_.

There had always been an ugly bitterness she'd hid in her heart, even from herself. She read endless books of girls her age going out and enjoying life, having dates, experiencing _love_. She wanted that, wanted the happiness she knew the people who'd come before her had taken for granted. It wasn't a foreign concept, many of the younger men and women within the caves had similar feelings - complaining loudly and often. Maka had always scolded them, though she was secretly just as angry at the hand they'd all been dealt.

That bitterness, however, was gradually being replaced by joy.

"Maka, come here."

Surprised, Maka looked up, more or less use to his sudden appearances by now. "Hi, I'm just setting up rat-traps," she told him, looking back down to carefully place the small biscuit on the trigger. When she was pulling back the trap, Soul grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her up.

"Hey!" she cried as he jerked her down the hall of the home she was searching, watching as her trap snapped shut and tumbled along the ground. "What the hell's your problem!?"

He pushed her against a wall when they entered a small room and he smashed their lips together. He groaned as his hands moved behind her to slip beneath her shirt and stroke up her back. The kiss was hard and punishing, more intense than any they'd shared before. He pressed his erection against her and she squeaked into his mouth. _That_ was new. He unlatched her bra and her eyes shot wide open.

Maka pulled away from his mouth. "Soul, what the hell are you doing?"

Undeterred, he kissed down her neck, nipping at her pulse. The words he murmured brushed against her neck in cool breaths. "You're so pretty, so warm, so soft. I need this. _Let me have this_." He never stopped, just continued to push her further and further. His hands moved quickly as they darted from beneath her shirt and tugged off her jacket.

She felt flushed and heated as his hands traveled over her, more aggressive and demanding than she could remember them ever being. When his hand began to slide beneath the waist of her pants, the nerves he'd manage to push aside came bounding back. "Stop! Soul, stop!"

"Don't you need me, too?" he whispered into her ear. "Do this for me and show me."

The breath left her lungs like he'd punched her.

His fingers crept lower and she let them, her eyes squeezing shut as he touched her, groaning into her ear. She didn't like this. Shouldn't she like this? His knee forced her thighs apart and his fingers entered her, rubbing in a fevered tempo. Tears burned behind her eyes and his actions felt crude and harried.

Soul's mouth found hers again, and she tried to focus on the kiss and forget about his stroking fingers. His free hand lifted under her shirt and squeezed her breast painfully in his hand. "You like that?" he asked against her lips. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

His hands left her, to her relief, but it wasn't over. "Take your clothes off," he ordered, removing his own jacket.

"What?" she asked breathlessly, hoping she'd heard him wrong.

"You heard me." His t-shirt came off next and the garment was tossed carelessly on the ground. He looked at her impatiently, hands on his hips.

"Look, Soul. I don't feel comfortable doing this, maybe-"

"You don't feel comfortable around me?" he asked, suddenly sounding hurt.

"What? No, I do but-"

He stepped foreword and took her hands in his, pressing them to his lips. "Please, Maka. Let me do this. I'll be so gentle with you, I promise. Please let me show you how much I want you."

Maka's eyes went from their joined hands to his earnest gaze, feeling overwhelmed.

Her heart pounded hard in her ears. Finally, she nervously nodded. "Okay."

Her hands were shaking as they lifted up her shirt off her head, not able to look him in the eye. Her cheeks tingled as they reddened, and she threw her shirt at her feet, her unclasped bra loosely hanging on her shoulders.

"And the rest," he prompted when she just stood there. Not bothering to argue this time, Maka unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down. When she'd stepped out of the leg holes, Soul grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer once more, kissing her mouth.

He lowered them to the floor, over a water stained rug that stank of mildew and scratched the skin of her back. He tugged her bra from her and leaned down to kiss her neck. His jeans rubbed hard against her underwear, and the skin of his chest felt cold as it pressed painfully down on her own. His hands traced her sides, up and down her ribcage as his kisses lowered to her collarbone then down to her breasts.

Her breath hitched as he licked her nipple, and the first rush of pleasure she'd felt that day trickled down below her bellybutton. When his fingers slid again beneath her underwear, she froze, but the movements didn't feel as awkward as they had before and her hips rose of their own violation.

Her hands lifted from where she'd previously kept them stiff at her side, and carefully touched the cool skin of his arms. Her head fell back and her hands clawed as he reached a particularly good spot, her breathing coming now in sharp pants.

When she was just becoming comfortable with the way things were progressing, he pulled away and jerkily unzipped his jeans. Maka blushed as she watched him, feeling once again exposed beneath his body. She didn't want to look at his face because she was too embarrassed to make eye contact, and she didn't look _lower _because that embarrassed her even more - so she just stared awkwardly at the smooth, tan skin of his chest as he pulled down his pants.

She heard the rustle of fabric as his pants were tossed aside, and Maka squeezed her eyes shut. "Easy," he crooned as she flinched involuntarily when one of his hands reached down to grip her hip as he positioned himself against her. It wasn't painful like she'd heard it could be, but she still found it uncomfortable and invasive. He moved inside her and bent over to kiss her again.

She focused on the kiss, trying to forget about his erratic movements. He bit her lip painfully and she jerked, eyes opening to see him looming over her, weight on his forearms. "Pay attention," he admonished.

Her nod was short and sheepish before she quickly broke eye contact.

He continued to bang their hips together, and every now and then he would move in a way that had a spark of pleasure chasing along her nerves. Her knees jerked up around his hips when the pleasure reached a tempo. Her body grew increasingly heated and sweat began to shimmer against her skin, rubbing off onto his.

Her hips jerked and she could feel something building in her abdomen, making her lift her hips in attempt to fulfill the promise of pleasure. Just when the release seemed so close, Soul abruptly jerked and collapsed over her.

Maka panted against his neck in disbelief, hips twitching and grinding to try and finish whatever it was she'd been rising towards. The pleasure faded, leaving only her frustration.

Her skin cooled as she waited for him to do something, _anything_. When he remained still, suddenly feeling unsure she asked, "Soul?"

His head lifted at her voice, but the look he gave her was a blank one. He pushed off her and grabbed his pants, pulling them on with lazy movements. Naked, cold, and confused, Maka watched him as he casually dressed. "Soul?" she repeated, sitting up.

His eyes found hers, and he put on a smile and kissed her mouth before walking out the door. She stared in confusion at the place he'd vacated and as the door opened and slammed shut in the distance, it was like all the air was sucked straight out of her lungs. Breathless and heart hurting, Maka slowly collected her clothes and got dressed on autopilot. Her stare was blank as she ran over the events, feeling lost and confused.

He just... left. Why did he just leave? Didn't people cuddle after sex? Had she done something wrong?

She'd just lost her virginity and had never felt more used in her life. She rubbed her chest miserably, wondering if it was normal to feel so hollow after a supposedly 'special' moment'. Her eyes closed and she grit her teeth. Sex was horrible and she hoped she never had to do it again.

Which was exactly what she told Soul when he appeared before her two days later.

He cocked his head at her, hands on his hips. She wondered nervously if he'd start spouting all that stuff about 'need' like before but he remained carefully quiet as he watched her. She fidgeted and his eyes zeroed in on the movement before meeting hers once more. A smile bloomed on his face, sympathetic and understanding.

He had her on the ground fifteen minutes later.

He spent careful attention to her this time, and she climaxed first against his mouth and then three more times as he drove into her. It was wild and hot and sweaty and _completely _different from the first time.

* * *

Two months passed and she _really _liked sex.

He visited her less often, once or twice a week, but he more than made up for his absences when he was around. They were currently laying in a tired heap on the old carpet of an apartment living room, the post-coital atmosphere quiet and charged with lazy satisfaction.

"You're so warm," he told her. It was something he said a lot, and for the most part she ignored it, taking it as some sort of weird robot endearment. His finger gently traced the skin of her shoulder. "_Your blood would be warmer._"

Her eyes shot open.

What. The. Fuck.

She jerked out of his arms and looked down to see him staring back at her calmly. "What the hell did you just say?"

He smiled then, and for a split second it absolutely terrified her. "Don't worry, I'm just flirting."

That was the first time in memory that she'd ever felt genuinely threatened by him, and the warning bells she'd smothered over the past several months blared in her mind as she looked into his eyes that suddenly seemed cold and desolate as they stared back at her.

"I have to go," she told him. Before she could reach for her shirt, he had her rolled on her back, pinned neatly beneath him.

"Don't say you don't trust me," he whispered. "We're meant for each other, remember?"

Her unease grew. "Soul, get off me-"

"I don't think I could be with someone who didn't trust me."

The thought of him gone instantly terrified her, and the intensity of that emotion surprised and worried her. When had her feelings grown this much? She had always been independent and self assured like her mother (had made a point of it), so why did the thought of life without him make her physically ill? She wasn't this needy. Even as these and other thoughts ran through her mind, she couldn't help but reply, "No, I trust you..."

"Because, though it would break me apart, I would let you go. I'd leave and never look back."

Something in her chest sunk low. "I trust you."

"Good."

Awhile later, after they'd gotten dressed, Maka walked out the lobby of the apartment and sucked in her breath. A body lay broken on the road, a pool of red surrounding the person as their limbs fell beside them at awkward angles. She looked beside the body to see a robot looming above, it's head cocked to the side as it studied the corpse.

Maka dropped her bag, adjusted her scythe in her gloves and charged the robot splattered red. If the robot registered the quick tapping of her sneakers against the pavement, it didn't show it - simply stared curiously and dispassionately at the body beneath it. With a cry of anger, Maka swung her scythe and jabbed the lethal point into it's eye socket.

It's limbs fell immediately limp and she kicked him off her weapon when the metal body stuck. That done, Maka rushed over to collapse near the body, her knees soaking with still warm blood. His stomach was ripped out, and his colon and small intestine hung out the hole in a messy heap. His heart was still clutched in the hand of the immobile robot behind her.

"Oh, Franklin," she whispered, her hands brushing the freckled face of the boy just a year younger than her. She lifted his lower body onto her lap, cradling his head in the curve of her arm. He had messy brown hair and had worked on Kidd's team. She remembered just last week, he had asked her shyly if her could sit beside her at breakfast. Maka straightened his arms and legs with care and combed her fingers softly through his curls. She didn't realize she was crying until the wet drops landed on the boy's freckled nose.

"Shit."

Maka turned to see Soul standing near her, he'd just stepped in the pool of blood and was wiping his boot against the cement to get it off. She watched him incredulously, as he ignored the boy in her arms and casually examined the bottom of his shoe, checking to see if he'd gotten it off.

"What is wrong with you?"

He looked up at her. "What?"

"_Show some respect_," Maka hissed, face wet and voice hoarse.

He regarded first the dead boy laying against her, then his eyes moved up to her face. "Why? Is he still warm?"

She wanted to throw up as his face showed genuine interest. When he took a step towards her, careful of the blood, she held the boy tighter to her chest. "Stop! Don't come any closer!"

His eyes turned lethal at her words, but he stopped as she'd asked. The words sounded cold and threatening as he said, "I'll pretend you didn't just _order me_ to do something."

"What does it matter if he's still warm?" she shot back, rather than acknowledging his ill concealed threat.

"What do you mean?"

"It's all you seem to care about! You always talk about it, like you're obsessed! It's like the only reason you keep seeing me is because I'm warm!"

His head tilted, confused. "Is there another reason?"

The hurt those words caused was debilitating, but she had more important matters to deal with. Carefully, Maka manoeuvred Franklin so that he was lying over her back, propped up by the scythe she'd positioned beneath his thighs. His arms hung lifelessly over her shoulders and she held back the tears as blood dripped from his mouth down her collarbone.

"I don't want to see you again," she bit out when she'd struggled to her feet under the weight of her companion. "That was the last time. No more."

He watched her carefully, his irises spinning. His voice was cold when he spoke next. "And why is that?"

Tears fell from her face in silent streaks. "Because I just remembered that you're a _robot_. Thanks for the reminder."

Soul moved closer to her, ignoring when she took a cautionary step back. He gripped her chin and tilted her face so he could look into her uncertain eyes. "We'll talk about this later," he promised

"Eat lead," she growled, jerking her face away from his fingers.

* * *

But just as he said, they did talk later.

It was late and she was up on a building near the cave entrances, scouting for enemies which had been causing disturbances lately. One of the younger scavengers had reported 'white' figures around the area when he'd come home after dark one night. It was probably nothing, but he'd been so distraught (and had looked so much like the deceased Franklin) that she'd offered to be look out.

The hazy moon hung low in the starless sky as she leaned against a concrete wall and watched the entrances to the old subway station from above.

She didn't even hear his footsteps, only knew he was there when cool fingers suddenly stroked against her neck. Shivers ran through her, and she looked up to see him kneeling beside her. "I told you to leave me alone."

"You can't get rid of me so easily," was his soft reply.

Sighing, Maka rubbed the back of her thumb against her forehead. She didn't know how long it'd been since she'd last seen him, but (as cheesy as it sounded) it had felt like forever. Her eyes found the moon, and she let her head rest back against the wall.

"I missed you," she admitted to him, mere seconds after finally admitting it to herself. She had missed him to the point that it hurt, though she hadn't wanted to - _still _didn't want to.

He didn't reply, just moved in to kiss her gently on the mouth. Maka closed her eyes and returned it, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly.

"This is the last time," she told him when they broke apart, their breath mingling.

"If you say so," was the only reply she got. He obviously didn't believe her, and in her heart - that always seemed to ache so sweetly when she was near him - she also knew it was a lie.

He was in her head, wrapped around her so tightly that he trapped her in a web of his own design. She was starting to fear that she didn't want to get out.

As he touched her under the moon, she held on to him like he was her only lifeline.

...

The world was swimming again and she wanted back in her all consuming memories, but they were already gone. She furrowed her eyebrows and tried to rub her head but her hands were stuck at her sides for some reason.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" a loud, angry yell.

She groaned as the noise entered her ears and banged around in her skull painfully. It sort of sounded like Soul, but she'd been hearing a lot of him in the past few hours so she couldn't be sure.

"N-nothing. _Ow_, stop! I promise! See, look! She's awake!" Dennis. So this wasn't a memory.

She felt cool hands gently probe the back of her head and she flinched when they touched a tender area. The careful fingers then moved to cup her cheeks, lifting her face. "Her lip's split and her cheek is bruised."

"Just a small tap, I swear!"

Hah.

"Did you touch her?" his tone left no confusion on what kind of 'touch' he meant.

"N-no, I swear on my mum! Please, I didn't know she was yours!"

Her left hand was freed from whatever had kept it immobile, then her right as well. Arms wrapped around her back and under her knees as she was lifted from her seat. Her head protested, but she figured it was worth the pain if she could be moved away from whatever that horrid smell was.

"N-no hard feelings then?"

She was gently manoeuvred so she leaned against his chest. A gun cocked and fired and the thud of a body rang behind her.

Her eyes squinted open, the light dancing dizzyingly in the small space. She saw flashes of white and red. "Soul?"

"_Shh_, I got you," he murmured soothingly in her ear, both arms around her once more as he stepped into the dark. "Go back to sleep, Maka."

"I told you not to come back," she remembered tiredly.

He was quiet a moment. "I know."

"I'm glad you did."

* * *

A/N: Say the words "Sex Scene" and watch how fast I disappear. Anyway, this was a big chapter and I hope what I wrote seemed natural and... flowy. Tell me what you think!

Next chapter in two weeks!

P.S. - Can someone please explain to me what "Resbang" is? Because I have absolutely no clue and I see it everywhere. I looked it up but I don't know if it's an art thing or a fic thing or if you have to be an artist to post something or if you can just write. Then people can claim the story for some reason? And something about a forum. I don't even know... I'm out of the loop in this fandom.


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